


Something Sweet

by ColorCoated



Series: Red Velvet [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky is 21, Drinking, Drunkenness, Gay Bucky Barnes, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Prequel, Romance, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve is 34, SugarBaby!Bucky, SugarDaddy!Steve, mentions of Daddy KInk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorCoated/pseuds/ColorCoated
Summary: “What's your name?” Steve asked almost immediately, needing to match a name to this gorgeous, pouty little face.“Bucky,” the dancer answered with a wide smile. “Bucky Barnes.”“Bucky?” Steve repeated with a shake of his head. A least he knew what he could call the kid, but for goodness sake. He shook his head a second time. “Geeze, a kid’s name for a kid.”Bucky looked a little offended and glared at Steve. His eyes narrowed and he pointed aggressively to his crown, “Not a kid.”-----Workaholic Steve gives himself a night off and is immediately charmed by Bucky, who he meets at a nightclub. Steve is a bit put off by the age difference, and now he has to figure out how to start a relationship with the young guy who just passed out in his guest room.This story is a prequel, but can be read independently.





	1. I'm hurting, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles come from Maroon 5's Sugar.
> 
> This piece was Beta'd by the amazing and talented [ SiriusGray](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusGrey/profile).
> 
> I had the privilege of working with artist [ Chalenmimi](http://chalenmimi-frenchtoast.tumblr.com/) on this story. Chalenmimi was a joy to collaborate with and she created two lovely pieces of art that will be embedded into this fic.
> 
> This story is a prequel to [ Sugar Sweet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9683708/chapters/21863813/).

When Steve walked into his condo and saw Sharon sitting at the kitchen table, a serious expression on her face, he immediately realized three things. 

**Number One** – Judging by how dark it was when he left the office, he was getting home much later than he promised. 

**Number Two** – Judging by the look on Sharon's face, she was very unhappy. 

And most importantly, **Number Three** – Judging by the fact that he could see literal bags packed on the floor near the hallway, this was not good. 

Steve stepped into the kitchen and calmly set his keys on the corner of the table and Sharon looked directly at him. 

"Steve," she started, voice heavy with the sigh that followed his name,"we need to talk." 

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. That phrase never lead anywhere good, as least not delivered like that.

"Sharon," he ran a hand through his hair, knowing where this was going and frowning in response. "If this is about dinner last night -" 

Because maybe if he acknowledged it before she brought it up again, it wouldn't turn into one of their awkward not-fights that were full of clipped tones and emotional dissatisfaction.

She cut him off before he could finish. "Are you really about to ask me if this is about you skipping our fifth anniversary dinner because you had an emergency at the office?" 

He had had an emergency at the office, he hadn't been lying about that. But, as Sharon's voice, thick with disappointment had reminded him, he always had an emergency at the office. 

"I told you -" 

"It was an emergency? Yes, you had mentioned that. You also have two of your closest friends working for you who would be more than capable of putting out fires when, oh I don't know, you had important plans with your girlfriend." 

She was right, they had had important plans. Plans that were supposed to signify something, that were supposed to celebrate this commitment they've had to each other for a whopping five years. The petty voice in the back of his head, that he ultimately shut down because he was so much better than that, wanted to ask why Sharon had insisted on celebrating such a milestone anniversary if she was so unhappy with Steve's life choices. How could you celebrate two people together if you didn't want to celebrate one of them individually?

"Sharon," his voice sounded sad, maybe a little hurt, because he knew how much Sharon wanted him to pass job responsibilities over to Peggy and Sam, but it wasn't that simple. 

How could she have thought it was just that simple?

“Think about it. If you have three people dealing with all your crises, the you personally should only be dealing with every third one.”

He started to respond but she shook her head.

“And, that's not even the point.”

Sure, he hired the best people he knew, but at the end of the day, Steve was CEO and owner of Shield, a marketing company that was both his entire life, and currently booming with business. He was responsible for the company, and he proudly held that weight on his shoulders.

If Sharon was suggesting (again) that he stepped back from work? 

… Well, then It was almost like she didn't understand what Shield meant to him at all. 

"Steve," she started again, and her face held that serious expression before twisting into a frown, "this isn't working." 

She said the words so softly, so opposite of the harsh line of her frown and the broken down hunch of her shoulders that it made his chest hurt. 

Whatever it was that wasn't working, had hurt her - was currently hurting her - and she didn't deserve that. Sharon was a wonderful woman. She was intelligent, tenacious, professional in every sense, independent, and, it may have sounded trite but was a quality that he really respected, always very punctual. She was the kind of woman you brought home to meet you family, and she'd shake all their hands, and handle greet everyone with just the right amount of aplomb.

She may have been more distant than Steve preferred, physically and emotionally, mostly emotionally, but she was a good person.

A good person who thought their relationship wasn't working, and didn't that just sting a little.

He exhaled slowly, feeling a weight on his shoulders that hadn't been there previously, and pulled out the chair across from Sharon, dropping into it ungracefully. 

Honestly? He wasn't completely surprised and somehow that made it a little bit worse. Possibly a lot worse. The stinging turned to a sharper pain, located centrally in his chest, because what kind of an asshole was he if he wasn't surprised by this. What kind of asshole was he, if he knew what Sharon wanted from a relationship and he had refused to give it?

"I know you're not happy," he admitted uncomfortably, because he hated to remind himself that he'd become an active participant in someone's unhappiness. 

"I don't know what to tell you, Steve," her shrug looked as helpless as he felt. "Five years is a long time to be with someone. I kept telling myself we were on the same page, but I think it's time to realize that we're not." She delivered that line with an lilt of accusation, and Steve was not okay with that. 

They must have rehashed that same argument two hundred times in the last five years. 

The calm, rational part of his brain was reminding him that in the same way he wouldn't change for Sharon, that she wouldn't change for him. So he wasn't the horrible person the stabbing in his chest was indicating. And that was all well and good if he could remember to think rationally, but he damn well knew that his emotions weren't letting him do so.

"I told you when we started dating that Shield was going to take up the bulk of my time." 

Sharon let go of a laugh, but it was dark and angry, and Steve flinched back at the sound. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He had heard traces of her steely determination when she described throwing down in the boardroom, and he had heard her anger from time to time when they fought, but that ugly sound was one he hadn't heard before. 

And if he was being honest? It made his heart hurt.

He and Sharon fought time to time, as most couples did, but they didn't raise their voices at each other. They were masters of the clipped, intense whispers, of deep frowns and deeper sighs. They may not have seen eye to eye on everything, but he knew that they both respected the each other far too much to start yelling.

"That was five years ago, Steve! For some reason, I figured that you would come around eventually. That your priorities would change." 

"I never promised that would happen." He responded honestly, because he had made it very clear. 

It wasn't like he had set out intentionally to hurt anyone, or Sharon in particular.

An internal struggle started at that moment, arguing in his head that he hadn't purposely tried to make her unhappy, that it wasn't his fault he couldn't be what she wanted. The fact that she had made it so clear what she wanted and he never gave it? Did that make it his fault?

On the other hand, did that mean he should've been asking Sharon to meet his needs?

Because there was clearly something mutual in their dissatisfaction.

Was this really anyone's fault? If he was thinking logically, he would've told himself that the blame lay as much on both of them as it did on neither of them.

He wasn't going to say it out loud, certainly because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Sharon more than he already did, but something in him started to wonder.

Started to wonder if relationships should be this hard? If you're so close to being the person your partner wanted, but never reached that line, are you still the right person?

He wasn't going to say it out loud, but part of him wondered that if this breakup had become inevitable (and when had that happened, he questioned sadly), wasn't it better that it was happening now?

From the outside, he never would've judged his relationship as dysfunctional. He and Sharon made a handsome couple. They were both successful and ambitious, they had common interest and respected each other.

As he looked at the expression on Sharon's face, that could only be read as nothing else besides disappointment, he experienced a twisting feeling in his gut, only exacerbated by the fact that their best personal qualities may had become their worst qualities in a partner. Steve's success meant never stepping away from the office and Sharon's ambition fed the independence and never let Steve feel as needed as he desperately wanted.

How the hell did they end up here?

When Steve first met Sharon Carter, he would've been the first to tell you that he wasn't in any place for a serious relationship.

He was, as his friend Sam reminded him with the utmost affection, a hot mess.

His mom had passed away only six months previously, and although he hadn't realized it at the time, he was still grieving. Turns out that the grief over losing his mom was still a character in his everyday life nearly six years later, and he hadn't realized that it had blurred his vision wildly for the first year. 

When he met Sharon, his heart was still broken over the loss of the world he once knew, and the one person who had loved him unconditionally. 

_"You'll be okay, Sunshine, I know you will."_

If he closed his eyes and thought about it, he could still hear his mother's voice. Things weren't the same without Sarah. 

And, turns out, navigating a life without his mother was just as confusing as having to say goodbye. 

Before that, there had been months of hospitals and tests and late night cheeseburgers smuggled in after visiting hours and between rounds of chemo.

There were months of Steve writing and rewriting his business plan, sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to Sarah's beside. She had supported Steve in everything he did, and she pushed him at the mere whisper of him wanting to start his own business. They did it together, dark bags under both of their eyes after long nights, but Sarah didn't want Steve's life put on hold because of her. He would brainstorm ideas and map out numbers, all while thinking out loud so she could be an active participant in the biggest career move of his life.

She had promised Steve that he would be a success, but then again, she'd been telling him that his whole life.

_”You might be small now, Steve, but just you wait. You're destined for greatness, Sunshine. I know it._

It wasn't until after she'd passed that Steve finally begin putting together the broken puzzle pieces of his life. Sarah hadn't been doing well, and she apparently knew that in much more detail than he had. Before he even knew how sick she was, she was offering to fund his business venture. At the time, he was touched at how much she believed in him.

After her death, he was heartbroken, touched, and ripped inside out that he hadn't realized she used her savings to support him one last time because she knew she wouldn't be needing the money in the future.

Cancer had always been a bitch, and when things got bad, cancer certainly had a way of making them worse. An infection was never just an infection, and best case scenarios were only created during worst case scenarios.

Sarah's health had declined rapidly, quicker than Steve -than anyone- had expected, but that didn't stop Steve from being by his mom’s side the entire time. If Sarah was going to die, and at that point things were bad enough that Steve couldn't even take solace in his denial at all; if she was going to die, then she would be damn well sounded by people that loved her when it happened.

And no one loved her more than Steve.

After taking care of Sarah while barely holding himself together, despite his natural inclination towards taking care of others, the last thing he wanted to do was take care of anyone else. 

Which is why, in a dark and twisted sense of serendipity, Steve had thought that he and Sharon Carter had met at the right time.

(Or as right as anything could be at the point, because without Sarah in his life, he wasn't sure that anything would ever feel right again? Sam told him, over and over, while holding him tightly and rubbing his back in a way so similar to the way Sarah had when he was younger that it threatened to metaphorically tear the open gash in his chest ever deeper, that things could be right again. One day. But it wouldn't be soon and it wouldn't be easy, and that these things take time.)

Steve had met Sharon at a networking workshop for young professionals. Shield had only existed for about a year, and Steve was doing his best to grow his company. 

Trying to turn Shield into something from nothing was all the he wanted at that point. It was fun, and it was exciting, and spending hours at the office was better than going home and thinking about what he had lost six month ago. 

Sharon had looked so smart and professional in a navy suit jacket, that Steve was almost surprised when she approached him. She worked for a big company, but was steadfastly ambitious and expanding her professional network in an effort to climb the corporate ladder. 

Steve appreciated these things about her, especially in someone as young as 28. He hadn't met very many people in his age demographic that were as interested as their careers as he was.

They hit it off and met a few times for drinks over the following weeks. 

When Sharon made her interests and intentions clear, Steve hesitated. He was honest too, he made a point to always be honest, telling her that his main focus right now was his business. 

And that there was a large chance Shield would always be his priority. 

What he hadn't quite explained in detail, mostly because if he focused too much on it himself the hole in his chest would try to swallow him up, was that there was a large chance Shield would mean more to him than Sharon ever would. His heart was broken, and Sharon being smart and pretty and personable, wasn't going to put him back together again.

So he was honest. He said that he started a marketing company, but it was a small business in its infancy, and much like an infant itself, it would need his constant supervision (and love and guidance) to succeed. He told her that Shield was a barely year old and just getting onto its feet. He told her that as it grew, he would hire more staff and do his best to delegate, but at the end of the day it was his business and it needed him.

She had seemed fine with it, especially in the early days of their relationship when Steve was only available weekly, and typically for drinks rather than dinner because he was always leaving the office far past dinner time. 

Weeks had turned into months and months had turned into years, and after three, they had moved in together. 

Sharon had stressed that it was a step forward, and more importantly, a step in the right direction. 

Steve agreed, and had been looking forward to it. His heart having healed some since losing Sarah, he was ready to open up and share his life with someone new. 

He also assumed that cohabitating meant all kinds of wonderful things, like the cliched bringing Sharon breakfast in bed, and snuggling together before waking up to go to the office, and intimate things like baths together and candlelit dinners. 

It wasn't quite that. 

It wasn't bad, but it wasn't quite what he had anticipated. 

Sharon was fiercely independent, and Steve had admired her for that. It was a strong characteristic not many people had, and coupled with her enthusiastic ambition, made her a force to be reckoned with. 

Of course, while her independence may have initially attracted Steve to her, when he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else depending on him for anything, three years later when they were finally living together… 

Well, Steve just wanted someone to take care of. 

He had always been a natural caretaker, and once enough time had passed after losing Sarah, Steve slowly started to find himself again. 

Sharon’s voice and hard expression pulled him back to the present.

"No, you never made promises. Of course you didn't. But can you at least understand where I'm coming from?" 

He tried to, he really did, but the weight on his chest, coupled with the look she was giving him made it hard to respond. All he could do was shrug helplessly. 

"I had plans, Steve. We dated for three years, and then lived together for another two; we've hit the five year mark. I'm ready to settle down, with you preferably, but I can't do that if you're working 60 hours a week and can't bother to come home on time." 

His head tilted to the side, because he had plans too, and they were certainly not aligned with Sharon's. If she… 

"If you thought that five years together would change things, why didn't you talk to me sooner?" His voice cracked when he asked the question.

"I was waiting for you to come around, Steve. I was waiting for your priorities to shift." 

Steve paused, and ran a hand through his hair, feeling more exhausted than he had all day, and it had already been a hellacious day. 

He looked at Sharon, and it hurt. If she was leaving him for any other reason, his emotions probably wouldn't have been as mixed up as there were. 

"Sharon," he started, sadly, "I can't give you what you're looking for." 

"I know," she nodded, but he noticed her eyes were wet. 

"Does that mean this is it?" So maybe it was a stupid question to ask, but he had to ask. 

If Sharon wanted to continue their relationship as it was, Steve would've been fine with it. She was a steady presence in his life, and he liked that. 

Maybe they weren't as happy as they should've been, but he wasn't exactly unhappy. 

There was no such thing as a perfect relationship. 

If he couldn't meet Sharon's emotional needs, and she wasn't meeting his, at least they were both on the same imperfect playing field. 

“Yeah,” Her lips pursed and her forehead creased with a deep frown, “this is it.”

Sharon got up, and Steve followed suit. As she picked up two large duffle bags and started to head towards the door, Steve couldn’t stop himself as he gathered her into his arms, and hugged her tightly.

If he was going to say goodbye, if his girlfriend or now ex-girlfriend or whatever the hell they were, was really going to walk out that door, he was going to do it right. Of course he was going to hug her and hold her for longer than necessary.

Maybe this wasn't working and maybe Sharon was angry or hurt and he was angry or hurt too, but they had history and they had had moments and there were things between them that he would always appreciate and always remember. Things he would hold on to. If he had learned anything in his life, it was that the bad always came with good and you held onto the goodness as tight as possible and you never let go.

He wasn’t lying when he said he cared about Sharon. The years he spent with her meant something to him, as imperfect as they were. 

Despite all the emotions that he knew he should be feeling, what he really realized was that his chest hurt. Not with the pain of a relationship breaking up, but it was out of fear.

Fear that he was going to be alone again.

His grip around Sharon tightened and he closed his eyes.

It wasn’t the same as losing Sarah, but all at once, he was hit with a sense of longing so strong, he could feel it in his bones.

...

When Sarah Rogers died, Steve gave himself three days. Anything more and he thought the grief would swallow him whole. This was only marginally accurate because those three days could've been a hundred days. Looking back, it was 72 hours of blackness and the hurt was so deep that it could've been 172 hours, and he wouldn't have known the difference. 

So Steve made a plan, and he gave himself three days. 

Three days where he stayed on Sam's couch, not moving, couldn't remember even breathing , where he just let the pain tug at every part of him since he knew he couldn't escape it. 

He could've stayed with Peggy, he knew. They'd been friends for years, and she'd do anything for him, but it had to be Sam. Peggy hadn't known Sarah: The tilt of her smile, the rasp of her voice, the way her eyes twinkled when she laughed. Sam knew all of this. 

Freshman year of college was a long time ago, and that was the first time Sam Wilson had met Sarah Rogers. Steve knew that Sam couldn't love Sarah the same way he did, but it was close. He knew this because Mama Wilson had all but adopted him after Sarah got sick, and without his mom or any siblings, the Wilson family because his family. And it was only natural to know that he loved Sam's mother the same way Sam loved his. 

And he loved Sam's mom, would always love Sam's mom; but she'd never be Sarah. 

He had called Sam first, voice rough from crying and told him that she was gone. Sam had been expecting the call at some point, he knew, having been on that awful ride as long as Steve had. If Sam hadn't been expecting it at 2am on a Monday morning, he'd never said. Steve doesn't remember what happened after that, after that fucking phone call where the words he barely said had actually said everything, where Sam knew what the hitch is his breath meant before he said any words. If he tried hard enough, maybe Steve could piece enough memories together to remember calling Sam, but he didn’t remember anything after Sam's muffled curse and before being in Sam's arms, and then being on Sam's couch. 

Sam offered to let Steve stay longer, possibly even begged for it after Steve whispered to him with watery eyes that he didn't know how to be alone.

Arrangements were made, a body was buried, Steve spent three days on Sam's couch, and then he went back to work. 

Shield had been waiting for him. It wasn't the open arms of his mother, but a small office space for him and his nine employees. Sitting at his desk, hours before his staff would show up, he could almost hear Sarah's voice. 

_"You will succeed. You know why? Because I raised you to be successful, Sunshine."_

And so sitting at a desk, in a office, all he could think about was that the lease for this space was paid for the year, thanks to Sarah's unfailing generosity. 

_"I will always believe in you."_

She supported everything he did, she always had. And looking back, he wasn't quite sure how she did it all. 

Steve never knew his father, who had passed before Steve was born, but Sarah spoke of him often, her eyes misty and a little heartbroken, with traces of love there that never quite went away. 

He guessed that he loved his dad? If you would've asked him, he probably would've shrugged. Joe Rogers was such an abstract idea to him, and he figured that he cared for his dad the same way anyone would care for a distant relative whom they'd never met. 

It was strange, but for Sarah's sake, he tried not to question it. She never dated, never moved on, like she had given her heart to Joe in the very beginning and never got it back to give to anyone else. 

Sarah raised him, being both his father and his mother, through a long, sickly, and ultimately tumultuous childhood. Looking back, he never realized how hard it must've been for his mom: to lose the love of her life, and then almost lose her son shortly after. He knew that his childhood was plagued with heart and lung problems, but Sarah never faulted him for that. 

As a kid, he never wondered if it was strange that he was closer to his mother than other kids his age. He spent most of his times being shuffled between doctor appointment, and meeting with a tutor at home since he was too sick to make it to school. It wasn't easy to make friends when you didn't spend your days at recess or at baseball practice. It wasn't easy to make friends when the majority of your time was spent surrounded by the blue walls of your bedroom. But Steve had Sarah, and that was more than enough. Despite not being a normal kid, he couldn’t remember wanting for anything, because his mom had made sure of that.

Thanks to miracle drugs and puberty and medical trials, he eventually grew out of most of his health problems, but he never would've made it without his mom by his side. 

He knew that the medical bills had to have piled up, but she worked double shifts, coming home from her job as an ER nurse looking tired and exhausted but still with enough energy to smile at Steve when she walked in their door. 

They lived in the same tiny two bedroom apartment their whole lives. An apartment that Sam had to pull Steve away from and tell him that it was time to move on. The memories there were breaking his heart and he was so afraid to let go, thinking that he'd lose another part of his mother. 

Luckily, his company, his baby that he was raising since its infancy, felt as much like the arms of his mother as their old apartment did. 

And this was why he couldn’t let go of Shield and his long hours. In the beginning, when he and Sharon had started dating, he was determined more than anything to grow his business and be successful. 

Sarah had passed when Steve was only six months into starting his own company. And, despite the fact, that Shield was more nothing than anything at that point, Sarah had been his biggest cheerleader, and had made it clear that she had no doubts this was the right decision for Steve. She said she'd be proud of him, whether he succeeded or failed, but as she reminded him with a wink and a pat on his shoulder, she had no doubt that he'd do anything but be a smashing success.

_“Steve, you need to stop thinking in terms of failure. Don't argue with me. I raised a winner and that's what you're going to be._

He had promised his mom, before the sickness, before he lost her, that he was going to be a success. Sarah never doubted him, but he had plans, plans to get his mom a bigger and better apartment. Plans to buy Sarah her own washer and dryer so that she wouldn’t have to carry her laundry basket down three flights of stairs into the laundry room. Plans to buy her a fridge big enough to hold leftovers from all the too-big meals she was always cooking and boxing up for him to take back to his small apartment.

Steve was going to be a success, and make enough money that his mom wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. He was going to pay her back - literally and figuratively - for all those years of double shifts where she struggled to make ends meet because of his medical bills.

Sarah had worked too long and too hard, and his mom deserved a break. He had appreciated everything that she had ever done for him, and he was going to show her the only way he knew how.

He knew what he wanted and he was going to achieve it.

_“I believe in you, Sunshine. I will always believe in you._

If Sarah wanted Steve to be a success, then, damn it, that's what he was going to be. He would support and grow and love his business the same way Sarah had for him for all these years.

It wouldn't be the same without her, but he could do it.

...

It would take Steve a few months, and then maybe a few more after that, but he would realize two more very important and very surprising things. Two things that were made especially fascinating because he hadn't expected them at all.

He supposed number four could actually be ‘expect the unexpected’, but that would be far too cliché and far too close to the insufferable maxims Peggy was always quoting (and emailing and texting, for that matter).

No, number four was something much more literal and definable, and something that may have skated the edges of his awareness for a long time before his was able to accept it.

**Number four** \- maybe he and Sharon weren’t meant to be together.

And then, when it had actually occurred to him, that moment so perfectly imperfect and unassuming and near ridiculous thanks to something as inane and unexpected as diced white onions.

**Number five** \- He could have happiness, he just had to find the right person.


	2. I'm broken down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was Beta'd by the amazing and talented [ SiriusGray](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusGrey/profile). SG, you're the best!
> 
> Artwork created by the fantastic[ Chalenmimi](http://chalenmimi-frenchtoast.tumblr.com/). Everyone go tell her how much you love the art at the end of the chapter!
> 
> Alternative title for chapter 2: **Enter Bucky**

Steve loosened the tie around his neck before pulling it off completely and dropping it in the backseat of his BMW, right on top of his suit jacket he had taken off as soon as he approached the vehicle. He hoped foregoing the jacket would make him look casual enough - he was sure that the light blue button down shirt was okay, but he doubted that anyone else out for fun would be wearing gray dress slacks. Oh well, it's what he’d been wearing to work, and he knew if he went home to change, he'd end up on the couch watching some kind of Netflix documentary rather than actually getting out "where real people are", as Sam would say. 

It had been a long week and he was tired and could actually be due for something fun. Running one of the most popular marketing firms in NYC was big deal, and Sam sometimes reminded Steve that _Steve_ was a big deal, but after a week of outrageous client requests and headaches from the accounting department, he was just done. He either needed documentaries, SportsCenter, or real people (that third one was obviously considered at Sam’s insistence).

He should be happy, he reminded himself. His firm was one of the most talked about in the city, and his success was nearly unheard of for someone of his age. Being 34 made him younger than most of the executives that hired him. Age was just a number, he reminded himself, and he was damn good at his job. 

He’d always been dedicated, and he always believed in working hard, but gaining an exclusive contract with Stark Technologies to handle all of their marketing campaigns about four years ago skyrocketed him to the top. And that was right at the tail end of getting a big paycheck and boost from MarvelUnder, the famous athletic wear company that Steve somehow managed to model for personally. All of a sudden the small firm he founded doubled and then quadrupled in size, and he was CEO of an agency that employed 500 people and was taking on some of the biggest (and most lucrative) marketing campaigns New York City had ever seen. He had been listed in NYC Reader's Top 35 under 35, and in AdWeekly's Up and Comers. It also ended up in a weirdly close friendship with none other than tech mogul and billionaire Tony Stark from the get-go.

Professionally, Steve was successful. And despite the fact that he worked too much, and kept his mind on the office more than he should, he loved it. He loved running the business, he loved being the boss. He loved working with his friends, who were some of the most talented and intelligent people he’d ever met. He loved owning his own business. 

He loved being the success that Sarah always knew he would be. 

Sure, he put in many long hours to get to where he was today (sometimes too many hours), but owning the place meant that he could leave early on the days Tony got them Knicks tickets, so life was good. 

Killing the engine and depositing his keys in his pocket as he exited his vehicle, he firmly placed work out of his mind. Well, attempted to place it out of his mind. He did choose this particular nightclub for a reason. It had been a long week, and he was going to actually relax and have a good time. 

At least, that’s what he promised Sam and that’s what he planned on reporting back to his best friend regardless of how the evening turned out.

Figuring he’d look less dressed for the boardroom, Steve unbuttoned the top three buttons starting at the collar of his dress shirt as he approached the side of Hydra. He eyed the line of people all waiting outside the nightclub, looking hopefully up at the bouncer and wishing for their chance to go inside. It seemed like a pretty good crowd, and he was happy to see that.

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, tousling it a bit, making him look more relaxed than he did when he was at the office. He walked along the far side of the line of hopefuls, directly up to the club entrance. Having his firm orchestrate the entire marketing campaign of the club when it opened nine months ago, and turning it into the place to be, had definite perks. The bouncer gave him an easy smile, not bothering to check his list or Steve's identification, and waved the man in without a second thought. He’d met the bouncer a handful of times, back with the place was still under construction and Steve was meeting with the owners while the staff was going through orientation.

Steve looked around, not surprised to see the place looking fairly crowded already. It was only 9:00, but it was also Friday night, which could explain the already packed dance floor. Steve eyed the dance floor from left to right, but his gaze instantly lingered on a very attractive body on the side closest to him. Steve watched as slim hips, wrapped in a very tight pair of black skinny jeans, shimmied side to side with the beat the music. The man spun around, a bright smile on his face, and placed his hand on the shoulder of the man closest to him. The companion smiled back and laughed, like they knew each other. 

Steve's eyes stayed focused on those tempting hips for a full minute before dragging them up a fit looking torso. The dancer was wearing a tight blue t-shirt with a deep v-neck. His skin looked creamy, and pale, and he very well might be the most attractive person Steve had ever seen. His hair was a dark chestnut color – slightly wavy and tied up in a sloppy bun. As he spun back around, Steve felt his fingers inadvertently twitch at the thought of pulling the tie out of the dancer's hair. 

To be honest, Peggy had been right. Maybe he needed to get out more. 

His number two at the office was right about most things, and she was invaluable to his business, not to mention both extremely intelligent and terrifyingly efficient. 

So if Peggy said he needed to get out (in addition to Sam already bugging him about it), then he made a point to do so. And, sure, maybe he picked a club that hired his company, and maybe his company was still managing the social media engagement for the place and maybe that was why Steve chose this particular nightclub. 

It’s not like he spent much time out at clubs usually. He spent too many hours at the office, but he still had a social life; it just consisted of spending time with Peggy, or grabbing a beer or going to the gym with Sam, or his bi weekly poker nights with the guys. He didn’t make a habit of going to clubs with tons of people where it was nearly too loud to talk.

If he thought about it, a large part of this was probably because despite being single for nearly nine months, he hadn’t been interested in dating anyone else. Sharon had been right all those months ago, that he hadn’t been emotionally available. He cared about Sharon, and even though neither of them was happy, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. He was not planning on starting another relationship and hurting that person because of his unavailability (be it physically or emotionally), the same way he had done to his ex-girlfriend.

He knew he was generalizing, but it was true that a lot of people went to clubs to meet other people. It wasn’t something he and Sharon really did in their five years together, unless it was a friend’s birthday or other special case, and if he wasn’t trying to meet anyone in the last few months, he wasn’t going out himself.

Looking away from the dance floor, Steve easily found the bar. Even if he didn’t talk to anyone, he could sit down, have a drink, and decompress. Granted, he’d much rather be at a sports bar watching the game while drinking, but it’d be a far cry from his recent Friday nights, and he could pat himself on the back for that. He smirked to himself, Sam would be so proud.

He slipped between bodies, approaching the bar and grabbing a seat at the end. He flagged down the bartender, and the guy was cute and smiled at Steve when he ordered a beer. Steve smiled back and made a mental note to tip the guy well. Sure, it was the bartender’s job to get Steve a drink, but he didn’t have to be that friendly.

Steve watched the bartender walk away presumably to get his beer, and pulled out his phone to check his email quickly. Everything had seemed wrapped up when he left the office, and it was 9pm, but that meant it was only 6:00 in California and he wanted to make sure one client in particular hadn’t sent him an important message at the end of their work day.

Over the clinking of glasses, Steve could just make out the bartender’s voice greeting another patron, "What'll it be?"

"Ummm, something sweet." Steve heard a second voice respond, but he was quickly distracted by the flood of new messages in his inbox.

He rolled his eyes in response to the subject line “FYI: Steve actually went out tonight”. Leave it to Sam to not only send it from his work email, but while on vacation.

Steve huffed out a silent laugh as he realized that it wasn’t sent from Sam’s Shield email address, but was actually sent from his personal one. He apparently sent it to Tony, Thor, Peggy, Pepper, and Jane, only after copying Steve’s personal email, work email, and Sam’s work email.

Apparently Sam wanted everyone to be aware of the fact he’d finally twisted Steve’s arm enough to make him actually do something after leaving the office on a Friday night. 

Realizing that the thread was literally all his closest friends fondly teasing him, he tucked his phone back in his pocket. He didn’t need to read all the 17 emails now and those gifs from Tony certainly spelled trouble. He looked up, having not even noticed the bottle that had been set in front of him when he was scrolling through his inbox.

He sighed, taking a drink and forcing himself to relax. He wasn’t at the office, nothing called for his immediate attention and he could unplug for once.

"Buy you a drink?" 

Steve inclined his head to the right as he heard the question. It clearly wasn’t meant for him and he watched as a man leaned against the bar, leering at another man under the pretense of buying him a drink. Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he had no idea if it was unwanted attention.

"No thanks," the second man responded, "I already have one."

Steve watched as the first man shrugged unhappily, and moved to walk away. It was then that he got a good look at the second man, and his heart all but skipped a beat.

The guy was…

Well, he was gorgeous. It took Steve a full second to realize that it was the guy dancing from earlier, with those sinful delicious hips. Steve wasn’t really sure where to look, the vneck t-shirt the guy was wearing showed a little bit of his skin, and Steve could swear it got his blood running hot.

Maybe Peggy and Sam had been right, maybe it had been too long.

He’d never felt his body react so instantly before. Sure, he knew a lot of objectively beautiful people. But this guy? This guy was turning towards him as Steve drank his beer, and Steve could barely even handle it. 

The guy’s mouth opened a little, and Steve’s eyes looked at those pretty pink lips, and the guy actually whimpered when his eyes laid on Steve. Holy hell. Steve wasn’t even trying to be crude, but that little noise sent his mind in some very filthy directions.

Not to mention that being personally responsible for that hot little whimper lit up something primal inside him.

Physical attraction was a thing, Steve knew this, but it’d never hit him like the force of a truck before. This guy had a beautiful little baby face, obviously too young for Steve, and, still, all Steve could think about was kissing the hell out of those pouty pink lips.

"You're pretty," a voice added, looking right at Steve. And, fuck, if he hadn’t ever heard anything that sugar sweet. His voice was sexy and sweet and Steve’s dick was trying to match it to the moan from a moment ago.

Steve grinned and set his bottle down, because, as far as opening lines went, it was adorable and Steve found himself laughing in response. How the hell this kid, because despite being old enough to get into the club, looking at him he had to be a kid, could be both arousing and adorable at the same time, Steve had no fucking idea. ‘Adorable’ was a word he’d use for puppies or Maria’s nephew, but it really applied here. That line, coupled with those nearly-too-big grayish blue eyes? It was adorable. This kid just called Steve pretty for fuck’s sake. He’d never been called pretty in his life.

Steve spent a lot of hours in the gym, and he knew what his body looked like and was damn proud of it. He wasn’t some type of gym meathead (he’d dated those guys in college and did not get it) but as Sam said, he was aware that he was “two thirds biceps”. As a kid who spent most of his life being sick with a body he couldn’t depend on, being healthy meant a lot to him. He loved running and lifting because he got to enjoy the strength his body finally grew into. And there wasn’t a day he didn’t appreciate the ability to run long distances, breathe without an inhaler, or lift heavy weights. If one of the consequences of appreciating and taking care of his body was his biceps, then he was okay with it.

Since his mama had taught him manners, he smiled as he accepted the compliment, "Thanks."

"What's your name?" That sweet voice, sultry and nearly dipped in sex, cooed back at him.

Steve could see the guy eyeing him up and down, could hear his voice dip a little, and Steve found himself getting excited at where this night could go. As the guy continued to check him out, he smirked back confidently and answered the question, "Steve."

Steve watched as the kid pursed his lips and it may have well been the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

Steve loved men; he was deeply attracted to hard bodies and low voices, and the feel of another man’s cock in his hand, or in his mouth. He loved the feeling of another hard body pressed against his. 

He found men extremely sexy, and of course he’d been faithful to Sharon throughout their relationship, but now he was realizing how long it had been since he’d been with a man. He nearly shook his head at himself, thinking how much he wanted this guy, and wondering how he could want someone so bad when they barely said more than two words to him.

Those pink pursed lips would surely feel good against his own lips, or against his skin.

Shit. He didn’t even know this kid’s name. It was obvious the guy was too young for Steve, but did that matter? If it was just going to be one night together, wasn’t it okay that Steve was a few years older and the guy was a few years younger? If it was just complete, utter filthy and delicious (because with this guy, it would be, Steve was sure) mutual satisfaction, then did it matter? 

The way those gray eyes were teasing him, it was obvious the guy was looking for one thing. Steve didn’t necessarily come out tonight expecting to get laid, but if it was an option, he wasn’t going to say no. It had been what Tony had labeled as “an embarrassingly long time.” Steve wasn't embarrassed about his eight months of celibacy, but he could admit that he was wanting for something. 

The guy was hot, and Steve suppressed a full body shiver at the idea of those lips even whispering ‘Daddy’, and if the guy was willing, then Steve was going to be all for it. It had been so long since Steve even explored the kinkier side of himself, and if it was only for one night, what’s the harm in at least asking the kid to call him that?

"You should buy me a drink."

"Thought you already had one." Steve arched an eyebrow in response, but he couldn't deny the fact that he liked the kid’s forwardness. Steve wasn't sure if he had a specific type, especially when it came to men, but he had always been attracted to assertive types.

"Not from you," The dancer’s voice was quiet with the coy response, and Steve had to strain a bit to hear that sweet tone over the loud pulse of music.

"You sure you haven't had too many?" It wasn't the sexiest question, but Steve felt the need to ask. The kid was already holding a mixed drink that was only half full. Steve wasn't sure what it was, but it looked sweet, and Steve was well aware of how much flavored liquor could pack a punch. It was dark it the club, but if Steve looked close enough, the kid’s cheeks seemed a little flushed. This could've been from the heat of the club or the exertion of dancing, but there was a chance it was from drinking and Steve had to ask. It would've been irresponsible of him not to.

The kid looked at Steve with wide eyes, like that last the last thing he'd expected Steve to ask him. Surprisingly, and adorably, the kid stuck out his bottom lip and gave Steve a pout that was in no way innocent, "But It's my birthday!"

"Yes," Steve smiled in response to what was clearly obvious, "I can see that."

Not only was this kid wearing the most arousingly tight pants Steve had ever seen, complete with that teasing vneck shirt, but he was also wearing, no shit, a crown on top of his head.

It had to have been made of plastic, and if being a shiny silver wasn't enough, there was also a purple 21 on the dead center, made out of purple glitter. The base of it was surrounded by what looked like a chunk of a hot pink feather boa.

It was one of the most outrageous things Steve had ever seen.

The crown may have been a headband? Steve wasn't sure how it was sitting so securely on the kid’s head, but it stood out against the kid’s dark hair, a bun tied up behind it.

It was outrageous, yes, but it was also kind of endearing how celebratory it was.

"Huh?" The kid looked at Steve in confusion for a second, before his face twisted in a smile. If he'd been wondering how Steve knew it was his birthday, the crown was a pretty big indicator.

"This is my song!" Steve was surprised to hear his companion practically shout out loud as the music faded and a new song started up. The kid was clearly excited because he was grinning wildly at Steve.

More surprising was the fact that the kid lifted his half full glass to his lips and downed what was left in it as quickly as if he'd be throwing back a shot.

Steve received a cheeky grin that was a little wild and the kid had the audacity to hold out his empty glass to Steve.

Honestly, Steve didn't know how else to react so he simply took the empty glass from the kid’s hand.

“I have to dance! I'll be back after this song for you to buy me a drink!" 

Really. The audacity of the kid.

Steve watched as the guy quickly made his way back into the crowd, unable to shake the smile from his face at all, even the smallest amount.

It was hard to put a word to it. This fucking kid told Steve to buy him a drink and then a minute later was hurrying back to the dance floor, and it was the best thing Steve had ever experienced. He was downright endeared by it. It was playful and sweet and a little adorable. Not to mention that it was completely courageous, and the kid seemed so sure that Steve would be interested. 

Well, Steve had always been one to admire tenacity. 

He almost couldn't believe it. It was absolutely ridiculous to feel so charmed so quickly after meeting a person, and it was absolutely ridiculous to feel so taken after one youthful, outrageous move, but… 

Well, Steve hadn't felt such an intense emotional reaction to another person in a long time.

It wasn't an unwelcome feeling, but it was certainly surprising.

Steve watched as the kid, whose name he still didn't know, made it to the center of the club where the floor turned from gray concrete to glossy white, and just let himself go.

Steve could think softer thoughts about being charmed and the kid being adorable, but it was an almost comical contrast to how his body reacted. For all he considered his emotional reaction, the physical one was doubly strong. His carnal want for the other man was intense and stronger than anything he'd felt in a long time. It surprised him, but he didn't dislike it.

And watching him was only making thing worse.

He knew he needed to stop thinking of him as a kid, despite being younger than Steve, he was obviously an adult, and the feelings being incited low in Steve's belly had nothing to do with the stranger’s age, and everything to do with how captivating he was. The dancer was an adult, was a man.

And, oh, what a man he was.

He moved like water, smiling a little bit sinfully as he moved from one dance partner to the next, not lingering on any more person for too long. Steve did note that his dancer only danced with other men, and was excited by that fact. Sure, Steve had a pretty big indicator that the dancer was interested in him, and seemingly in men, but it was nice to have that thought verified.

The dancer smiled at guy after guy, and practically preened when men smiled back at him. It was flirty and sexy, and Steve found himself enjoying watching the dancer have a good time and seem so playful.

Despite having downed that sugary sweet pink drink rather quickly, Steve watched as his dancer moved gracefully. It was a teasing contrast, the way his body moved so effortlessly fluidly than shifted into something a bit more filthy, rolling his hips and fitting his ass against another nameless partner, grinding their bodies together in an imitation of what Steve would very much like to do later tonight.

Watching that body move felt like a tease, and when his dancer glanced briefly toward the bar, caught Steve's eye, and winked, Steve was exactly sure that's what it was. Steve couldn’t help but smile back in response, it had been a very long time since he'd flirted like this, and even longer since it had felt like so much fun.

Steve tugged on his collar, despite the three buttons undone, he felt overheated. Whether it was from the rest of the bodies in the building, or the heat that his dancer kicked up in his chest, he couldn't be sure.

Steve couldn't take his eyes off the dancer, and it was easy to tell how the guy had caught Steve's eye earlier that night. His dark hair and that sloppy bun were particularly striking, but really, the guy was absolutely beautiful. Steve wasn't sure how he could be pulled between two complete extremes, but the dancer was both beautiful and devastatingly sexy. He was torn between wanting to worship the dancer’s body and wanting to _worship_ the dancer’s body. It was a heady sensation, and, if he was being honest, it was exciting too.

If Steve was being logical and rational, he'd question why he wanted this dancer so much, but he was enjoying himself too much to care. He was drinking some local IPA that was cool and delicious, and watching the sexiest man with the most sinful hips he'd ever seen, flirt with him from half a room away.

He'd barely been at Hydra for half an hour, but this was already turning into one of the best nights he'd had in a long time. Even if nothing happened, even if the dancer continued to dance and didn't come back to Steve, or only wanted a drink from Steve and nothing more, it didn't matter because Steve was having fun and Steve was enjoying himself. It was obvious that the attraction between him and the dancer was mutual, and being able to watch them move and smirk at Steve across the room? Well, it was great and it was hot and it was sexy.

Steve was having a great time.

His dancer was wearing a thin vneck shirt, and with the way he was dancing and the way the light hit him, even from his spot at the bar, Steve could see perspiration on this visible skin of his smooth chest. If he was being honest, Steve could admit that he'd wondered how that salty skin would taste against his tongue. He wondered how the dancer’s lips would taste too, if they'd be sugar sweet from the drink he just had and if Steve could chase the flavor.

The back of Steve's mind reminded him again how long it had been since he'd been intimate with another man, and that thought led to Steve thinking what'd it be like to get his lips on the dancer’s cock as well. If that wasn't a particularly hot thought, than he didn't know what was.

He watched his dancer spin his body around and rock against another man, chest to chest and hip to hip. His dancer's hair was out of his face tied up in a bun, but it was a little sloppy, with tendrils slipping out from the side. Steve's fingers itched to touch that hair. He imagined pulling the hair tie out and intimately running his finger through all that dark hair. He vaguely wondered how long it was, and found himself immediately attracted to the image of his dancer with longer hair, down and framing his face.

When the song blurred into the next, Steve wasn't one hundred percent sure that his dancer would come back to him, and he held his breath for a moment.

Clearly, he didn't have to worry. As soon as the song fully switched to the next, his dancer’s body was turning slowly, and the gorgeous guy met his eyes with a sultry smirk, just as teasing as it was playful.

The guy’s hips stopped swaying and he shimmed between bodies to make his way off the dance floor. Steve watched as the dancer pressed his body against a blond man’s, loosely sliding his arm around around the man’s waist, clearly saying something in his ear as he passed.

Steve released the breath and his heart beat kicked up a notch as the dancer was making a beeline for Steve. Steve could feel excitement in his finger tips.

Steve couldn't fight a smile as the dancer flopped himself down on the free stool next to him. For someone who danced with such grace, the way he dropped his body down on the stool was nearly comical.

The guy spun his whole body so he was completely facing Steve, and Steve's eyes dipped down to the open vneck in front of him, the sight of the sweat-dampened skin more than arousing.

Feeling hot, Steve brought the bottle of beer back to his lips, hoping for anything to help with the sudden heat, and was marginally distraught when he found it empty.

“Steveee,” the dancer exhaled slowly, breathing out Steve's name with a big smile and looking up at Steve through thick lashes.

Holy hell, he was sexy.

“What's your name?” Steve asked almost immediately, needing to match a name to this gorgeous, pouty little face.

“Bucky,” the dancer answered with a wide smile. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Bucky?” Steve repeated with a shake of his head. A least he knew what he could call the kid, but for goodness sake. He shook his head a second time. “Geeze, a kid’s name for a kid.”

Bucky looked a little offended and glared at Steve. His eyes narrowed and he pointed aggressively to his crown, “Not a kid.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Bucky didn't even give him a chance.

It took less than a second for the glare on Bucky's face to melt back into the sultry expression he'd greeted Steve with at first. He leaned over and placed a hand on Steve's forearm.

Pursing his lips, he practically purred, “So not a kid.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve’s body instantly responded, his blood running hot at the feeling of soft fingertips on his skin. He didn't push Bucky's hand from his arm, nor did he make any move to pull away. “You made your point.”

Despite the fact that he told himself that he shouldn't think of Bucky as a kid, it was a bit difficult to let it go. Bucky was so much younger than he was. Fuck. Bucky was 13 years younger than he was.

“Good.” Bucky answered, as the tip of his tongue traced his lower lip and Steve held back a groan. It was devastatingly sexy, and for a second time, Steve was blindsided by the intense wave of attraction that hit him just looking at Bucky.

Okay, so Bucky was 13 years younger than he was, but the look Bucky was giving him did nothing but make Steve think that Bucky was all adult, and should be all his. At least for the night. And maybe tomorrow morning. And then tomorrow night?

When was the last time he felt like this?

The bartender was back at their end of the bar, and asked if they needed anything else. Steve held up his bottle to indicate another one, and found himself laughing out loud when he turned to Bucky.

Apparently Bucky hadn't forgot about the drink he was owed, because he was looking up at Steve with those big expressive eyes, cheeks adorably flushed, and batting his eyelashes.

It was the most playfully endearing thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

Maybe that was why he was so attracted to Bucky. The way Bucky oozed sex appeal notwithstanding, he was so fun and free. It had been a very long time since Steve had met someone so enthused to just _be_. Maybe that had something to do with Bucky's youth, or maybe it was just Bucky; Steve didn't know enough yet to see which it was, but he was leaning towards the latter. Regardless, Steve knew what he liked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve found himself agree through his laugher, a big grin on his face. “And one more drink for the birthday boy, here.”

Bucky was now grinning, like Steve had given him the world, not just a drink, and the hand on Steve's forearm squeezed once. 

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked, very interested in Bucky's answer.

He wasn't the only one. After over hearing Bucky order something sweet earlier, Steve was curious as to what would be next.

Bucky pursed his lips, like he was really thinking about it, and Steve found his eye drawn that way. It was impossible to look away when Bucky did that, his pink lips would turn slightly downward at the edges, like a pout, and it was a dizzying mix of cute and sexy and, frankly, all it did was make Steve want to kiss him stupid.

For someone who hadn't been out in ages, Steve also wanted to kiss Sam for encouraging him to come out tonight. How he got lucky enough to be at Hydra the same night Bucky was celebrating his birthday, was something wonderful.

“You don't want to order for me?” Bucky asked teasingly.

Steve cocked an eyebrow, “Why would I do that?”

“Because it's my birthday! It'd be my birthday gift!”

Bucky's enthusiasm was infectious, and Steve found himself smiling again. His grin turned to a smirk and he gave Bucky an innocent look as he answered with a lift of his empty bottle. “Well you want a beer?”

Bucky pulled a face that had Steve laughing and Bucky clearly didn't like that idea because he turned back to the bartender himself. “Something pink please.”

“You got it,” the bartender respond and turned away to go fetch their drinks.

Bucky was smiling at Steve, that smile still a confusing mix of heat and happiness. 

"Steve," Bucky purred again, the hand on Steve's forearm now walk two fingers up his arm and bicep. "What do you do?" 

"I'm in marketing." He replied, with an easy smile. For as much as Bucky seemed to flirt wordlessly with every man on the dance floor, his actual lines weren't that great. Steve appreciated the effort though, and again, found it endearingly adorable that the kid was trying to chat him up, under the guise he wanted to know more about Steve, when every move of Bucky's body language read sex. 

Bucky pulled a bit of a face, and Steve's smile grew as Bucky so obviously tried to hide the bored expression. 

Sure, on the surface 'marketing' didn't sound so glamorous, but Steve loved it. It was clearly what he was meant to do. 

Steve loved the challenge of it. He loved taking a company and identifying its weaknesses. He loved finding what he could do to make the company better. He liked to identify where his clients needed more revenue and drawing customers or consumers to that point. He liked finding social media blind spots and using those to grow a brand and find it success. It was a tactical game, and he liked the challenge of identifying points A, B, and C, and finding the best way to lead them to points D and E. 

It was strategy and it was a game, and the way consumers interacted with brands' social media pages these days meant there was always a wild card or something unexpected. 

Steve loved his job and he loved his company, and he loved the rush of satisfaction that followed a successful ad campaign. 

"I own my own company," he added with a tiny shrug, thinking it might make him sound more interesting. Not that he was going out of his way to impress the kid…? 

Bucky did look a bit more impressed with that, but got distracted by the glass of pink liquid being placed in front of him. 

"A watermelon martini for you," the bartender said before passing a bottle to Steve, "and another IPA for you." 

The hand on Steve's arm dropped so that Bucky could place both hands on the glass in front of him. 

Bucky lifted the martini glass slowly and took a sip, he was obviously pleased by the taste because a little giggle followed. 

For the first time that night, Steve wondered how much experience this newly minted 21-year-old had with drinking, and it made Steve think that maybe he should've questioned that at the very beginning, even if that giggle was the fucking cutest noise he'd ever heard.

"So Bucky," Steve lifted his bottle to take a drink, "how's your birthday treating you?" 

Bucky set his martini down to face his body back towards Steve. He made a show of nibbling on his bottom lip and slowly looking down Steve's body before looking back up and meeting Steve's gaze. Bucky practically cooed, "it's getting better now." 

There was as much heat in those words as there was flush on Bucky's cheeks and Steve had to take a long pull of his beer to stifle a responding groan. 

It was quite possible that Bucky was going to be the death of him. 

Sure, it had been a few years since he'd put himself out in the dating pool, but Bucky's unapologetic reactions and sex appeal were, frankly, going straight to Steve's dick. The kid wasn't doing anything to turn down his teasing and it was making the heat below Steve's skin warm over a steady simmer. 

Not to mention the fact that Bucky's pitchy tone of voice that he had just heard for the first time had Steve getting a hard-on, thankfully hidden by the bar's counter top. That voice was so saccharine and teasingly innocent that in his mind, Steve could easily imagine hearing Bucky coo 'Daddy' at him. And that set him on fire. 

Steve wasn't at all ashamed of his attraction to Daddy Kink, it was just something he enjoyed in the bedroom, and it was something that Sharon hadn't been interested in. It was fine, Steve would never make any of his partners do something that they weren't comfortable with, but that just meant it had been a while. 

And despite the fact Bucky might not be remotely interested, imagining it was than enough for Steve. 

He had been with Sharon for five years and the two of them had met at a networking meeting for young professionals. Clearly, that was nothing like this. 

Picking up someone from a nightclub wasn't exactly Steve's normal MO, neither was picking up someone so blatantly younger than him… but well, Steve was watching Bucky, sure that his heated expression gave away how much he wanted to devour Bucky. 

And Bucky? Bucky was looking at Steve with those wide, curious eyes and the look on his face seemed to say that Bucky wouldn't mind if Steve did. 

The whole evening was turning into a continuous heady rush. And the back of his mind couldn't help but remind Steve that there was a fair possibility of this being only the beginning. 

“It could be even better,” Bucky continued as he obscenely ran the tip of his tongue along the edge of his martini glass.

“Oh yeah?” Steve managed to choke out, unsuccessfully trying to keep his voice even.

“You could take me home.”

Steve's eyebrows rose teasingly, even though this was the way things had been going since Bucky sat down next to him. He just liked the way Bucky pursed his lips when he thought Steve had to actually consider the offer.

Not wanting to wait, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and dropped a $50 bill on the bartop, placing his bottle on top of it. He stood up and gestured for Bucky to follow.

“Done.” Steve’s word had a touch of finality to it, and he smirked when the kid’s eyes widened in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a wonderful time collaborating with [ Chalenmimi](http://chalenmimi-frenchtoast.tumblr.com/) and I cannot get over that beautifully done scene at Hydra. Did you notice Bucky's birthday crown?! DID YOU!!?


	3. I need your loving, loving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual, this piece was Beta'd by the amazing and talented [ SiriusGray](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusGrey/profile).
> 
> [ Sugar Sweet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9683708/chapters/21863813) Readers:  
> So, we all knew what was going to happen in this chapter, but I hope you liked how it played out!

There was something absolutely surreal about seeing Bucky standing next to him in elevator of his building.

The kid was tapping his fingers on the rail on the back of the elevator and swaying his hips ever so slightly side to side, as if he was still in Hydra, as if he had music to dance to.

Steve watched him, simply because much like on the dancefloor, he couldn’t look away. The little movements of Bucky’s hips were as enticing as they were amusing and Steve found that no part of him wanted to stop watching.

How long had it been since Steve brought someone home? Shit, it had been such a long time. He counted backwards in his head, partially unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

It had been nearly nine months since Sharon left, and he hadn’t bothered to seek out anyone in that time, either for dating or something more casual. There were the five years he and Sharon were together, and they hadn’t begin sleeping together immediately, mostly because Steve was always too busy with work. Sara had passed six months before he’d met Sharon, and he’d been too steeped in grief to even think about dating.

So, sure, it’d been a long time.

But now, his eyes moved from Bucky’s hips up to his pink lips that were pulled into the sexiest little pout Steve’d ever seen, well now he was very happy about where his evening was going.

The elevator pinged encouragingly as it pulled to a stop on the 34th floor, and the doors slid wide open.

Steve stepped out, and rather than look at him, Bucky was glancing around curiously, those slate blue eyes as big and wide as ever, with that absolutely ridiculous crown perched proudly on his head that he apparently had no plans for taking off.

There weren’t very many doors in the corridor seeing as each unit was fairly large, even by New York standards, and Bucky followed along curiously as Steve walked past two units on either side until he reached the one at the end of the hall.

The kid moved with grace, even glassy eyed, and Steve realized, quietly possibly more inebriated than he’d initially noticed.

They approached Steve’s door and Steve dug a hand into his pocket looking for his keys. He never quite trusted the digi-lock Tony had installed on his unit, and much preferred doing it the traditional way.

“Steveeeeee,” Bucky practically whined and Steve found himself laughing loudly, obnoxiously, with his head thrown back because it was just ridiculous and incredibly endearing, and when had he ever heard an adult whine about the short distance of his hallway. “Hurry up!”

It was comical, but still managed to be sexy? Steve shook his head. It didn’t fucking make sense and the way Bucky seemed to continuously light up warring emotions in his brain was the most confusingly intoxicating puzzled he’d ever experienced. 

Sure, Bucky whined, fairly immaturely if Steve thought about it, but only because the kid was so anxious to get into Steve’s apartment, and assumedly, his pants.

As Steve slid the key into the lock and began to turn it, Bucky tossed his arms down dramatically, sighing in an over-the-top way like he’d been completely put out just waiting for Steve to get the door open, and Steve found himself laughing again. Because it was still ridiculous and adorable, and Bucky looked gorgeous while doing it.

Honestly? It was just so fucking fun.

He smiled to himself, so completely pleased that he went out tonight, that he’d listened to Sam. It was fortuitous that his best friend happened to be a pain in the ass on the same day as Bucky’s birthday.

Speaking of which, Steve could think of a few gifts he could give the kid in particular, and they were certainly a lot more satisfying than a watermelon martini.

He pushed the door open, and found himself grinning as Bucky bypassed waiting for Steve to invite him in, and literally pushed Steve back and stormed in like he owned the place.

“IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!” Bucky shouted as he literally danced through Steve’s foyer and towards his kitchen.

It took a full beat for Steve to realize that he was just standing the doorframe grinning and watching Bucky move further into his condo. He shook his head at himself again because this was getting out of hand.

Sure, it had been a significant amount of time since he’d brought anyone home, but Steve was acting completely enamored with the kid and he barely knew him. Actually, he didn’t know Bucky at all.

But he did know how good Bucky looked moving on the dance floor, and his mind was supplying him with all kinds of creative images of Bucky looking just as good in a number of other compromising positions.

He sure hoped Bucky liked to bottom during sex, because having the semi-awkward conversation right now about how Steve didn’t necessarily enjoy the overwhelming feeling of prostate stimulation seemed like it would ruin the moment.

Not that penetration had to happen. It had been a long time since Steve went down on another man, and he was more than happy to explore that. He was sure swallowing down Bucky’s cock would be wonderfully satisfying.

That thought was followed up with the mental image of Bucky’s perfect little pout and those lip stretched wide around Steve’s cock instead. And, oh, wasn’t that a fantastic idea?

Bucky was standing in the middle of Steve’s kitchen and it was just about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen (even if he’d had that thought about Bucky quite a few times that night). Steve had flipped the light on in the foyer, and it softly flooded the close side of the kitchen. 

The back wall of floor to ceiling windows were letting in plenty of light from the city, providing just enough backlighting behind Bucky that Steve could make out the playful expression on the kid’s face.

If Bucky was impressed by Steve’s condo, he certainly didn’t show it. There was something endearing about the fact that Bucky didn’t seem to care that Steve lived in an expensive condo 34 floors above the city or that his kitchen counters were made of granite.

Bucky just seemed happy.

And, as he stumbled over a kitchen chair that he apparently didn’t even notice, fairly drunk.

Steve knew the kid had been drinking. He bought Bucky that martini, and Bucky had sucked down some bright pink drink before he ran off to dance. Not for the first time that night, Steve questioned how much Bucky had been drinking.

More than anything, Steve wanted to lace his fingers with Bucky’s and lead him down the hall to Steve’s bedroom. He’d strip Bucky of his clothing slowly, revealing more skin, and finally get a chance to place his lips on the skin beneath Bucky's throat that Steve hadn’t been able to look away from earlier that evening.

Steve wondered if Busky’s skin would taste salty, the after effect of spending the evening sweating between other bodies on the dance floor.

Steve wondered if Bucky was as graceful while having sex as he was while dancing. Steve wondered how smoothly Bucky would roll his hips up towards his body. He could picture the liquid-smooth way Bucky moved, and imagining the kid arching his back, pushing his chest up against Steve’s.

Steve was getting hard just thinking about it, as he watched Bucky literally dance around his kitchen, around the island, and back towards the table. There was no music, but it didn’t seem to stop the kid. 

Bucky was smiling just like he was as happy and as at home in Steve’s kitchen as he was in Hydra.

“Steveeeee,” He breathed out slowly, letting the quirk of his lips turn more sultry, and apparently thinking he sounded convincing, “Steve, come dance with me!”

“You want me to dance around my kitchen table?” Steve questioned with a laugh, because despite the fact Bucky seemed to enjoy doing it, it seemed like a completely out of place idea.

“It’s my birthday!” Bucky shouted, with no less enthusiasm as the first time he had, but at last this time it wasn’t quite as loudly. “It could be my birthday present!”

Steve lifted an eyebrow, “I thought that was the drink I bought you at Hydra.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s hips stilled for the first time that night, as he came to a stand still. His brow furrowed in confusion and his mouth rounded out in an “o” shape like he was about to say something, but then couldn’t figure it out. He gave his head one hard shake, like he was literally trying to shake it off.

Steve watched, clearly fascinated at the way Bucky’s body started moving again. Bucky moved around the table, so it was no longer in between him and Steve. 

The look Bucky was giving him was downright sinful, and Steve found himself watching in rapt fascination as the pink tip of Bucky’s tongue snuck out to trace along his bottom lip.

“You know,” Bucky’s voice literally purred and Steve felt his entire body tense in response. That voice certainly affected him more than he would’ve guessed. Steve was sure if he heard that purr call out his name, or, if he was lucky, ‘Daddy’, that he’d be absolutely done for.

“I could think of another birthday gift you could give me,” Bucky continued, voice thick with lust as he gazed up at Steve through his dark lashes. Bucky was already kicking off his boots and leaving them abandoned on the kitchen floor.

Steve’s feet were frozen in place as Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. He sent Steve a wink before he grabbed the hem of that stupidly sexy v-neck shirt and pulled it up and over his head and dropped it on the floor next to him.

“Wow,” Steve whispered, the words coming out at the tail end of the breath he just exhaled, his eyes wide and intense as the watched Bucky.

If Bucky was gorgeous with his clothes on? Well, the sight of him shirtless was even more than that.

Bucky’s skin was creamy and smooth, his chest as hairless as Steve’s own, with rosy nipples that were clearly responding to the cool temperature of Steve’s condo. He wasn’t heavily muscled like Steve was, but his body was fit with subtle definition; light little lines separating his upper torso from the abdominals muscles below and Steve ached to follow them all with his tongue. 

Steve’s stomach clenched just looking.

It had been too long since he’d been with another man. Maybe it was something about his gender, but it was also something about Bucky too, and Steve just could not wait to get Bucky’s body beneath his. He couldn’t wait to give Bucky pleasure, to see if Bucky would gasp out his name, or if he would come silently with a sigh.

Steve wanted to see it all, and even smiled ruefully to himself. When was the last time he wanted someone like this? Wanted someone so badly?

A voice in the back of his head told him that Sam was going to be incredibly smug that he convinced Steve to go out tonight, but Steve didn’t even care.

Steve once again wondered how Bucky could be both some unbelievably sexy and also so endearingly cute.

It had to be that ridiculous crown atop his head. If he weren’t wearing it, Steve would just be looking over Bucky’s naked chest and unfathomably tight jeans. It would be all sex.

But instead, Bucky was actually adjusting the crown so that it seemed to be more secure on his head.

Steve watched as Bucky stared at him with big, wide eyes and he had a crisis of conscience. Those big eyes looked so young, gazing at Steve owlishly. Shit, Steve was so much older than this kid standing around his kitchen.

Steve had rushed home, more than ready to take Bucky immediately to bed. He'd been picturing Bucky's body intimately beneath his as soon as he laid eyes on the kid. 

Should he even do this? Would it be fair to Bucky, sleeping with a kid who was so much younger? Steve didn't know.

As much as his blood was pumping at the sheer thought of getting his hands and lips on Bucky's smooth skin, he tried to hold off.

He wanted this so badly, his body was aching to get close to Bucky's, but maybe this wasn't a great idea. Bucky was just so young.

He reminded himself that Bucky was an adult, and was able to make his own decisions. And, again. If it was only one night, did it matter?

Steve hesitated, feeling excessively tempted by the teasing little pout of those pink lips. He took a step towards Bucky and came to a stop, feeling the need to voice his concern. “I'm 34, and you're 21. I'm way too old for you.”

“Oh, Steve, don't worry,” Bucky smirked teasingly, “I'm sure you'll be able to keep up.”

Steve wanted to respond, but his words got caught in his throat as Bucky quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. With an extremely arousing wiggle of his grabbable hips, Bucky was letting his jeans fall to the floor.

“That's not-” Steve began, but cut himself off with and inarticulate groan.

Bucky had grabbed the elastic of his purple boxer briefs and dropped them to join the pants around his ankles.

“Wow.” Steve whispered, repeating his earlier words, after swallowing dryly; unable to look away. Bucky's dick was half hard, standing out in front of his body. It was swelling in front of Steve's eyes which made Steve's body thrum with need. It reddened as it hardened, and the beautifully flushed skin was a dizzying contrast to the pale color of Bucky's creamy thighs.

Steve groaned again, because Bucky was the hottest damn thing he'd ever seen.

Steve wasn't just attracted to Bucky for being a man, but he would've been lying to himself if he didn't admit that he wanted Bucky's dick in his mouth more than he wanted anything else. 

Steve enjoyed oral sex, always had with both giving and receiving, and it didn't matter if he was eating out a woman or blowing a man. Both activities were enjoyable, but, damn, he just really loved the weight of dick in his mouth. And, if his body's response was any indication, had missed it greatly.

Steve’s length was thick and swollen in his own pants, harder than he'd been in a long time. 

Fuck it.

This was going to be the best night he's had in months.

Hell yes.

Steve took another step towards Bucky, slowly closing the distance between them. His fingers literally ached to touch the kid.

He was finally going to wrap his big hands around those beautiful fucking hips, place his lips next to Bucky's ear, whisper that Bucky could call him Daddy in bed if he liked, and then kiss the hell out of the kid.

Then, hopefully, get knuckles deep in that sweet ass before getting his dick up inside Bucky.

He was always a big fan of strategy and that seemed like a well thought out and wonderful plan.

Steve took another step towards Bucky, just about closing the distance between them. As he did, though, Bucky attempted to do the same and step towards Steve.

Steve was completely unprepared to see Bucky stumble, clearly unaware of the clothing tangled around his feet. He frowned as Bucky kicked out a leg, trying to get it free, and stumbled again, going as far as grabbing one of the kitchen chairs for support.

Bucky finally got his pants and underwear off, and the fell flat on his ass when he bent over to pull his socks off.

Steve watched cautiously, and as Bucky swayed unsteadily as he stood back up now completely naked, Steve uncomfortably realized that maybe Bucky was much drunker than Steve originally thought.

It was easy not to notice when Bucky was dancing at Hydra or around Steve's kitchen. Steve could assume that Bucky had to have had some dance experience, because sheer muscle memory probably made every movement so smooth. When Bucky stopped dancing and was moving on his own, the movements were unsteady and sloppy.

When Bucky was stripping off his clothes and revealing inch and inch of tempting, delectable skin, Steve had clearly been distracted. Steve hadn't noticed that Bucky's cheeks were now a little too flushed, and his eyes were a little too glassy.

And, looking at Bucky standing directly in front of him, Bucky's cock was still beautifully hard and leaking.

Steve wanted to lap at the head of Bucky's dick and gently lick away the pre-come beaded there.

He took a very deep breath and let it out as slow as possible. He wanted Bucky, he wanted Bucky a lot, but the kid was clearly drunk. Probably drunk enough that he wouldn't even remember everything that was happening.

Steve looked away, guilty; Bucky was clearly too drunk to consent to this, and Steve had been too busy getting distracted by Bucky's body to realize that.

Bucky had probably been too inebriated at the club to be aware of what he was doing when he told Steve to bring him home.

Steve must have been so clouded by desire that he hadn't thought this through. Shit, it had been the kid’s twenty first birthday. Bucky'd probably been drinking all day. He'd probably had shots or beer or mixed drinks before the two Steve had watched him drink.

“Hey sailor,” Bucky crooned, crooking a finger at him, “gonna show me which way to the bedroom, handsome?”

Steve's jaw literally dropped open as Bucky turned around, putting his back to Steve, and gave his ass a perfectly teasing and downright filthy little wiggle. 

How had Steve not noticed that subtle slurring of words in the first place?

“Where do you want me, captain?”

Steve didn't know where all the nicknames were coming from, but he was finding himself feeling enormously disappointed as he continued to stare at an ass he wanted to sink his teeth into. If Bucky was able to play with causal petname as a precursor to sex (that they would not be having), then he'd probably be open to calling Steve by a certain name that got Steve's blood boiling.

(Well, either that or Bucky couldn't remember Steve's name any longer.)

It really was a damn shame, and despite feeling guilty about the fact that he couldn't see to take his eyes off of Bucky, Steve figured it was normal to be disappointed.

“C’mon Bucky,” Steve waved a hand to indicate the hallway, “you're drunk. Let's get you to bed so you can sleep it off, kid.”

“But,” and the enormous pout on his face told Steve how he felt about that idea, “it's my birthday.“

“I know, Buck,” Steve responded, moving towards the hallway as Bucky followed him. “But you're way too drunk for us to sleep together.”

Bucky swayed unevenly on his feet as if Steve needed a reminder. “It's birthday sex, Steve. It counts as my birthday present.”

Steve wasn't sure how to reply to that, as ridiculous as it was, but he didn't even get the chance as Bucky continued.

“And you look like a gift that keeps on giving and giving.”

Steve's stomach clenched at the mere idea that if he was giving, Bucky would certainly be receiving. Steve didn’t mind giving, not at all, in fact.

“Damn it, Bucky,” he grumbled, feeling distracted and sexually frustrated.

Steve would never do anything without a partner’s consent, and have may have felt guilty about it, but as he opened the door to to the guest room, he gestured for Bucky to enter first. If Steve did this specifically so he could get another good look at that tight ass in front of him, then so be it. 

Bucky collapsed face first onto the bed without so much as a direction to do so, and Steve could hear muffled giggles from where his face was pressed into the pillow. If the kid was giggling drunkenly to himself, then Steve clearly made the right choice not to sleep with him.

“Bucky,” Steve asked with a smile as Bucky rolled onto his back so he could smile drunkenly up at Steve. “How much did you really have to drink tonight?”

“Ummmm,” Bucky lifted a shoulder and bit down on his lip while he considered it, “only like five shots and four drinks.” He started giggling again.

Yeah, at this point, Steve wasn’t surprised by that, and he could only guess how much alcohol was in those four mixed drinks. The poor kid was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.

Steve stepped next to the bed and pulled back the comforter and top sheet. He did his best to maneuver Bucky underneath the covers, touching him as little as possible. Bucky may have been willing to be physical with Steve tonight, but Steve wasn’t entirely comfortable touching all that naked skin without a sober ‘okay’ to do it. Luckily, Bucky wiggled around enough that Steve was able to pull the blankets back over him.

If Steve stole one more glance at Bucky’s naked ass and imagined digging his fingertips into it, while the kid rolled over as Steve pulled the blankets up? Well, Steve never claimed to be perfect.

Bucky’s eyes closed despite the fact he was still laughing a little to himself, and Steve figured that Bucky would probably passing out sometime very soon.

He stepped out of the bedroom, and went to the kitchen to fill a large glass of water. He grabbed a coaster from the living room and two aspirin from the bathroom medicine cabinet, and by the time he was back in the guest room, Bucky was already out of it. Steve placed everything on the nightstand, and couldn’t hold back a smile at the relaxed look on Bucky’s now sleeping face.

Steve shut the lights off, and closed the door only half way. If Bucky woke up drunk and disoriented, the last thing Steve wanted would be for the kid to walk into the door of a dark room.

WIth Bucky sleeping it off in the spare room, Steve had a moment of not knowing what to do with himself. It wasn’t like this was a situation that he found himself in often, or ever. Unlike Bucky, Steve wasn’t tired yet and found himself fairly keyed up.

Walking down the hall towards the kitchen, Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket because he so clearly needed to talk this over.

Steve hit the top number on his Favorite Contacts list and waited as his phone rang in his ear.

"Rogers, you know Maria and I are out of town for the weekend. This better be good." 

Steve instantly felt a bit more relaxed with the voice of his always rational best friend in his ear. If he was being honest, he was still feeling uncomfortably turned on, but he’d take feeling more relaxed if that was all he could get.

"Sam," he reached into the fridge and pulled out a cold bottle of beer, fairly certain he'd need it for this conversation. "It's good to hear from you." 

"Can the unnecessary sentiments, Steve. It's 12 in the morning and if you're not either dying or have an equally as good reason to call me, I'm kicking your ass on Monday." 

He heard the sound of a door click and he assumed that Sam was stepping into another room. Part of him felt guilty about calling Sam so late, knowing he was staying at some Bed and Breakfast for the weekend, but he also knew that Peggy would've been doubly pissed if he woke her up. He took a long pull from the bottle in his hand. 

"I brought someone home with me from Hydra." 

"Oh, okay then," Sam definitely sounded interested now, "Well, it's a good reason, I'll give you that. But, if you went home with someone, why are you calling me?" 

"He was drunk," Steve rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and let out a slow controlled breath, "I didn't realize quite how drunk until we got back to my place. He was inebriated enough that I'm not comfortable sleeping with him." 

"All right, that's fair," Sam didn't react at all to Steve's choice in pronouns. The two roomed together back in college and he'd seen Steve with both men and women. "I know you, so I'm sure you didn't just kick him out if he was that wasted." 

"No," Steve rolled his eyes at himself because he really was that predictable. "He's sleeping it off in the guest room." 

"Steve, I'm not going to make this a big deal, because you're introspective enough to acknowledge that you haven't looked at anyone since your break up with Sharon eight months ago." 

"Nine months ago," he corrected absently, not that it really mattered. 

"Nine months, right. So maybe you're just putting yourself back out there, which is great, and I know it's been a long time since you've been with anyone else, but you've never been the type for casual sex. If this is just a hook up, that's fine, but I have to ask: what are you thinking about this guy?" 

"Sam, Jesus, I don't know," Steve ran a hand through his thick, blond hair as he thought about it, "you should've seen him at the club. The way he moved… it was like smoke. And he's got these hips. They're slim enough that I think I could wrap my hands completely around his sides. And his ass, Sam, oh my god." 

"Well, I hate to break it to you," Steve frowned as Sam started his reply, unsure of where it was going, "But dudes aren't really my thing, so I can't give you any advice as to how to bang the guy. Because everything you're saying right now is pointing to you just wanting to hook up with him." 

"Sam," he hissed his response, making his annoyance clear, "you know that's not what I'm looking for." 

"Could've fooled me," Sam's tone was just close enough to teasing that it pissed Steve off. Asshole best friend. "The way you were talking, pretty sure it was going to lead to sex." 

"It's not -" he cut off his statement with a frustrated growl and started again, "That's not what I was trying to say." 

Steve ran a ran through his hair, his go-to gesture of frustration at the office or during long conference calls, and started pacing around the island in the center of his kitchen. 

"He's just," Steve was embarrassingly aware of how resigned his voice sounded, "He's just really _cute_ , okay?" He sighed. 

"…Cute?" It took Sam a full 10 seconds to respond and Steve could almost picture the obnoxious teasing expression on Sam's face. "Oh damn. Sorry, Steve. I didn't realize this was High School Musical or some shit." 

"Come on, Sam," Steve only wished that Sam could see the scowl he was wearing through the phone. "I'm serious." 

"Right, serious. So he's cute." Steve imagined Sam rolling his eyes, but whatever Steve couldn't see wouldn't hurt him. 

"Yeah," he let out a heavy sigh and stopped pacing, leaning down against his elbows on the kitchen counter. "He's cute. And he has this presence. The club was packed with plenty of attractive men and women but nobody stood out like he did. His smile was brighter than the lights in the place." 

"So what's the problem?" Sam paused, but continued before Steve could respond, "Man, I know it's been a while for you and it can be hard to put yourself out there -" 

"It's not that," Steve cut him off because they didn't need to have that conversation again. Sam had tried to set him up with some women a month or two after the breakup, but he turned down the offer because he knew he wasn't ready. Steve was an adult, and more than capable of being aware of his own emotions. He wouldn't have gone out tonight, nor would he have bought Bucky (or anyone) a drink if he didn't think he was emotionally ready for what came next (be it any kind of relationship, one night stand or otherwise). "He's younger. There's a significant age difference?" 

"How significant?" 

"Enough that he drank too much at a club without realizing it." Steve shrugged because that was the truth. 

Enough that Steve already knew he was way too old for Bucky.

"But you're both consenting adults?" Sam said it with a tone that indicated he already knew the answer. When Steve grunted in the affirmative, he continued, "Then it's fine. Sure, he'll probably be embarrassed as all hell tomorrow, but so what. It wouldn't be the strangest way to get a guy's number." 

"Thanks, Sam." He downed the rest of the bottle, not wanting to waste it. 

That would make it his third beer of the night, but he was not as affected as Bucky had been. He'd had two at Hydra, both shortly after eating a full meal, and now a couple hours had passed. Not to mention the fact that Steve's body mass was quite a bit more than his companion.

All things considered, Bucky held his liquor pretty well, and despite passing out, Steve was impressed the kid hadn't vomited on the kitchen floor.

“Steve,” Sam’s voice was tired but as unfailingly kind and supportive as usual. “Just relax. It’s okay. If you’re both still interested in the morning, then exchange numbers. That’s it.”

“Yeah,” He nodded to himself before agreeing more confidently the second time, “Yeah. You’re right.”

“I know I am,” Sam responded confidently and Steve could swear he heard the smirk in his voice. “Now, stop being an asshole and let me get some sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks Sam, I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, man, just try for a normal hour next time.”

Steve felt more emotionally settled after ending the call, but that still didn’t help the heat running through his veins as he continued to think of Bucky sleeping naked in his spare room, Bucky pulling his shirt off in Steve’s kitchen, Bucky on the dance floor at Hydra rocking his hips to either side.

He took a deep breath but it didn’t seem to help, as his body reminded him that he’d been left unsatisfied.

Feeling marginally guilty about what he knew he was going to do, he dropped his bottle in the recycle bin, turned off all the lights, and headed down the hall to his headroom, only glancing briefly in at Bucky as he passed.

Steve had already begun unbuttoning his shirt before he was fully in his bedroom. He stepped into the large bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He stripped quickly and efficiently before dropping all his clothes into the hamper in the corner.

By the time he stepped into the hot shower, steam billowing from the walk in and water pouring steadily from the rainfall showerhead above him, Steve was already completely hard.

Obviously he hadn’t been hard the whole night, maintaining an erection for hours would have been as impossible as it would’ve been uncomfortable, but that didn’t mean Bucky hadn’t had him swollen red hot in his pants multiple times that evening.

If Steve closed his eyes, he could picture Bucky easily, moving liquid smooth around his kitchen and temptingly wiggling those slender hips until his jeans slid down and he’d tugged down his briefs, revealing Bucky’s smooth and dark pink cock.

Steve grunted louder than he had anticipated when he wrapped a hand around his own erection.

He pictured Bucky turning his back on Steve, showing off that gorgeous and fuckable ass.

His grip tightened, quicker than he normally would get to that point, but Steve wasn’t trying to drag it out. He’d been hard for Bucky as soon as he’d met that kid tonight and his body just ached for some physical satisfaction. Steve knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, so he had to take care of the problem.

He imagined Bucky bending forward, pushing his chest and rosy pink nipples against the top of Steve’s wooden kitchen table. He pictured Bucky bent over with that beautiful pale ass on display. He pictured himself stalking up to the kid’s unsuspecting body and spanking that ass. He imagined spanking it hard, over and over again. He imagined his big red handprints surfacing on Bucky’s aching and stinging cheeks, all while that sweet voice moaned out ‘Daddy!’.

“A-ah!” Steve quietly gasped to himself as his climax surprised him, and he felt warm come hit his fingertips and splatter against the shower wall in front of him. 

His breaths heaved out of his chest as he slowly rinsed his hand off and tilted the shower head to clean off the wall as well. His heart was beating a little too quickly as he tried to figure out how long it had been since he’d come that hard, or when he’d been that surprised by a too-quickly-approaching orgasm. 

Regardless, he turned off the shower and dried himself off, feeling intensely satisfied and relaxed as relief seeped into his bones. He brushed his teeth and took a piss before falling into bed, just as naked as Bucky had.

Despite what Steve had originally anticipated, it didn’t take him anytime at all to fall asleep.


	4. I need it now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece was Beta'd by the amazing and talented [ SiriusGray](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusGrey/profile). 
> 
> Artwork created by the fantastic[ Chalenmimi](http://chalenmimi-frenchtoast.tumblr.com/).

Steve thought it might be weird to move quietly around his apartment because he was trying not to wake the stranger sleeping in the spare bedroom, but it really wasn’t a big deal. He even slept in slightly later than usual, thanks to his late night with Bucky and his time in the shower as a direct result of that.

Still, he woke up early enough that his guest was still sleeping, which he noted by glancing in the open door of the guest room and seeing Bucky adorably twisted up in the covers.

Steve showered and dressed, automatically putting on gym clothes before realizing that he wasn't going to go out for a run while a stranger was sleeping in his home, even if that stranger happened to be incredibly handsome. Rather than change, he just left it and went to the kitchen for a much needed cup of coffee.

Bucky's clothes were littered around the floor and Steve picked them up piece by piece. He carefully stacked Bucky's crown, wallet, and his ancient-looking phone on the edge of the island countertop before walking to the back of his condo to enter the laundry room and toss Bucky's clothes into the washing machine. He wasn't sure about the jeans, so he put everything into the gentle cycle, just in case.

Steve spent the next two hours in his office doing some research on a new company he was going to meet with later that week.

By the time he felt he was at a good stopping point, he shut down the program and headed toward the front door of his condo. It was late enough that his Saturday paper had been delivered, so he grabbed it from outside his door before shutting the door behind him.

He dropped the paper onto the counter, and was fairly surprised when he glanced down the hallway to see Bucky standing in the doorframe of the guest room, leaning heavily against it.

Completely naked.

Steve's breath caught for a second, but he found himself exhaling quickly as Bucky's hand pressed against his bare stomach.

On second glance, Steve's eyes widened because Bucky complexion was a worrying pallid green.

Oh, that was not good.

Steve took a step forward, and hurried as he watched Bucky’s body sway a little.

"Woah, woah, woah," He rushed towards Bucky's side, and the kid's head quickly turned towards him. Yeah, he really wasn't looking well. Steve frowned nervously before asking what seemed like an obviously question. "Are you going to throw up?"

Bucky looked lost, but nodded regardless.

"It's okay, kid." He wrapped an arm around Bucky's waist to help support him, seeing as Bucky didn't seem steady on his feet at all. Steve mentally berated himself as his body instantly lit up in response to the contact with all of that smooth, bare skin. 

Bucky's head started to turn towards Steve, but aborted the movement halfway through, and Steve could only imagine how much the kid's vision was swimming in front of him. Bucky didn't take any steps forward, and Steve wasn't sure if he was going to but it was clear Bucky needed help. "Hurry up, you're okay. Come on."

Not doing anything to help, Steve took Bucky’s weight and half carried the kid to the bathroom, Bucky's feet shuffling unsteadily against the wood floor.

Steve legitimately tried to lean Bucky against the wall once they entered the bathroom, but the kid practically collapsed against the floor, right next to the toilet.

Steve felt bad about that, but yesterday was Friday, and that meant his cleaning service had scrubbed that floor and toilet and no one had been in the second bathroom since. If Bucky was going to have such a rough morning, at least Steve could provide a clean surface for it. 

Okay, so it wasn't much, but the super tidy part of him argued that it was better than nothing.

It took less than a second for Bucky to hunch over the open toilet and began to vomit up what Steve could only assume were last night’s drinks.

Steve frowned as Bucky groaned unhappily. The poor kid looked miserable as he stretched his arm out and rested his pale cheek on his forearm and leaned on Steve toilet.

Steve just felt bad. Bucky didn't look great, and Steve could only hope that expelling the liquor in his stomach would help Bucky feel better.

The poor guy couldn't have been comfortable, and he had to at least be cold sitting on the tile floor seeing as Bucky was still completely naked.

As sexy as it was to see Bucky strip off his clothes last night, it wasn't fair to leave him in such an uncomfortable state right now. 

Steve quickly stepped out of the bathroom and into the guest room. Opening the door to the linen closet, he grabbed a folded fleece blanket and headed back toward the bathroom.

Bucky was in the same spot and groaning pathetically, "'m never drinking again."

Despite a valiant effort, Steve couldn't hold back a laugh at that. He couldn't say he'd personally ever been that destroyed after a night of drinking, but he could understand that Bucky was sure having a rough go of it.

Steve shook out the blanket to unfold it, and he gently wrapped it around Bucky's small shoulders.

Since Bucky's eyes were still closed, Steve soothingly brushed the hair away from Bucky's face and gathered it at the nape of his neck. He must've lost his hair tie sometime between last night and this morning because his hair had been hanging down the sides of his face and sloppily across his forehead.

When Bucky turned his head to puke a second time, Steve stepped over to the sink and dampened a clean washcloth. He turned back to Bucky and made a quiet noise as he blotted the back of Bucky's neck gently. 

When Bucky laid his face back down on his forearm, Steve fought a warm smile as he repeated the motion he blotted Bucky's poor clammy forehead as well.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked as Bucky sighed and finally opened his eyes, blinking at Steve in response to the question. 

Steve watched as Bucky stared at him, those gray blue eyes seemingly focusing on Steve for the first time that morning. Bucky just sat there wide-eyed for a moment before he responded.

"I think I'm dying," Bucky’s voice sounded dry and tough and Steve’s brow creased in concern. Poor kid.

"Yeah, well, with as much as you drank last night, I'm not surprised." He crouched down next to Bucky and ran the cool washcloth along his forehead, patting Bucky's skin gently and trying to provide some relief from what Steve could only assume was an awful headache.

"Everything hurts," Bucky literally whined in response. Again, Steve held back the smile fighting its way onto his face because he didn’t want Bucky to think that Steve was delighting in his misery. Even if it was fucking cute. 

"You think you're going to throw up again?" Steve questioned cautiously because it seemed like the most appropriate thing to ask right now. 

"No," Bucky voice was small and uneven, "Honestly, I don't think there's anything left in my stomach."

"Alright," Thank goodness for that much he figured. He tried to keep the smile off of his face, and just looked concerned at Bucky instead. "You gonna stay wrapped around that toilet all day?"

"It seems like a good idea," Bucky answered, not even bothering to move.

"Come on, Bucky, up." As he stood up from his crouch, Steve wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, careful to keep it over the blanket, and helped Bucky to stand up.

The kid seemed unsteady for just a moment, and Steve left his arm in place once until Bucky stopped wavering so much. Steve watched Bucky pull the blanket tighter around his body - probably just now noticing his own nakedness - and Steve was thankful he’d taken the time to grab it.

Bucky wasn’t doing anything but watching Steve, so Steve figured he’d better help the poor kid pull it together. "Here's the plan, you're going to take a hot shower."

Steve inclined his head towards the shower at the far end of the bathroom. Then he pulled a new toothbrush out of the drawer, thankful he always had an extra one on hand for the nights Sam ended up crashing over here unprepared.

"I figured you'd probably want to brush your teeth as well," He passed the toothbrush to Bucky with a shrug, and Bucky just looked surprised while he did so. 

Silently thanking himself for being smart enough to have guest towels as high quality as his personal towels, Steve pulled some two towels out from under the sink. "And after that, you can have as much coffee as it takes for you to feel human again."

Because Steve was convinced that if there was a problem, coffee was also going to be at least part of the answer.

Bucky stared at him, watching him speak, and looked thoroughly confused for a full beat. His mouth opened and closed once, almost like he was going to say something about how Steve was clearly just ordering him around quasi-awkwardly. Instead he just asked, "Where are my clothes?"

Steve gave Bucky a small smile in response, figuring the question was bound to come up, "I put them in the wash first thing this morning. They should be clean for you shortly." At least hopefully, he’d moved them to the dryer not that long ago.

Steve watched as Bucky looked him up and down and Steve could only wonder what Bucky was looking for.

"Did we fuck last night?"

Oh, well, that explained it. The question surprised him, but Steve supposed it shouldn’t. Bucky had clearly been looking at his own nakedness, and then looking Steve up and down to wonder why only one of them had been naked. He tried to swallow down the surprise and answer Bucky honestly, "Uh, no."

"That's a shame." Bucky shrugged.

Steve laughed hard in response. There was something ridiculous about this. Bucky was questioning what they did last night, and instead of worrying about what happened (or didn’t happen), he had shrugged it off like a minor disappointment. It was ridiculous and Steve found himself so amused. Once his laughter died down, Steve wondered if the kid could recall anything that happened. "You don't remember?"

"Nope." Bucky responded, and Steve could swear he heard some disappointment in that word. Although, if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure if Bucky was disappointed about the lack of sex or the lack of clear memory.

"Bucky," Steve’s voice was gentle, because he didn’t want Bucky to worry. The kid shouldn’t be concerned about what happened last night while he was too inebriated to consent. Obviously, Bucky didn’t know Steve, but Steve wouldn’t take advantage of that situation and he wanted to stress that. "You were totally wasted last night. There was no way you could've consented to anything."

"But," Bucky almost tried to argue with him, "I woke up naked."

 _Naked and alone_ , his brain supplied unhelpfully.

"Yeah, well," Steve immediately felt his face flush, even though he tried to fight it. What possible way could he explain the situation without sounding completely inappropriate? Just tell Bucky he’d been imagining bending the kid over all night until Steve realized he was too drunk to do so? That he wasn’t able to stop looking at Bucky’s naked body? The flush deepened, and Steve could feeling it spreading past his cheeks. 

"I couldn't seem to stop you from taking your clothes off.” Not that he had really tried. “But I eventually got you into the guest room to sleep it off."

"Oh, you should've had sex with me.” The disappointment was back in Bucky’s voice, clearly indicating that it had been about the lack of sex. Steve was more than okay with that, he had been a little disappointed himself. “It could've been my birthday present."

"That's exactly what you said last night," Steve grinned and laughed again because the repeated idea of gifted birthday sex it was fairly outrageous.

"Well," Bucky began and there was that sexy little pout from last night again, "clearly you didn't listen."

Steve shook his head, not quite sure why Bucky didn’t seem to understand why that was something he wasn’t comfortable with. "You were drunk, Bucky," he explained again.

Bucky was still pouting. "Birthday drunk is different. It doesn't count." 

Steve found himself amused, if exasperated, and shook his head a second time. "Go take a shower. You'll feel better." Steve stepped out off the bathroom and grabbed the door handle to shut the door tightly behind him. The last thing he needed was to be able to see Bucky naked in his shower.

Thinking about it was probably enough. 

Thinking about how Bucky looked last night, his hips swaying temptingly as he pulled his shirt over his head was more than enough.

Steve took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Getting a hard on now wouldn’t do him any good.

First, he checked on Bucky's clothes, and when then were still damp he found himself digging through his own wardrobe for something he could offer the kid. He wasn't sure if they'd be clothes that would ever actually be returned, and he smiled ruefully to himself when he realized he didn't care. It'd just be nice to help Bucky out. 

Under the assumption that Bucky would continue feeling rough, Steve grabbed something soft and warm, deciding on flannel pants he normally slept in and an old tshirt that was much smaller than even he preferred. He reached for his underwear drawer and then paused. Thanks to his contract modeling briefs with the athletic apparel brand MarvelUnder, and the fact that he kept all the clothes from the shoots, he had more pairs of underwear than he knew what to do with.

Passing a pair of to Bucky wouldn't be an issue, but it sure seemed very forward. He couldn't think of any other time he'd ever given another man a pair of his underpants, even if they were clean.

He decided to ignore that, and if his blood got flowing at the fact Bucky would be wearing Steve's flannel pants with nothing underneath? Well, Steve had already acknowledged that he wasn't perfect.

Perfect like Bucky's ass and that beautiful half hard erection he'd seen last night. He'd liked the size of Bucky's dick; it seemed like just the right size to put in his mouth.

He needed a distraction, something besides the thought of naked Bucky Barnes, and walked to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee, so it'd be ready when Bucky was. He placed the clothes on the table so those would be ready as well.

He wasn't sure if Bucky would be hungry after being sick, and probably still hungover, but the hospitable thing to do would be to offer Bucky breakfast.

Steve didn't want to make anything that would be heavy for an upset stomach, so pancakes would probably be a safe bet.

Without buttermilk, he had to make do, and he just measured out the lemon juice to mix with whole milk, when he heard an uncharacteristically hesitant voice call his name.

"Uh, Steve?" 

Steve grabbed the clothes off the table and stepped into the hallway to see Bucky standing in the doorframe of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped tightly around his slender hips. 

Steve found himself imagining, again, that his large hands could fit themselves completely around said hips. He swallowed dryly and attempted to push the image out of his head. Now was not the time for that.

Sounding contrite, because Bucky needed him and he'd been too busy subtly ogling the guy, he held out the spare set of clothes. “Your clothes weren't dry yet but I thought these might fit you for now."

Bucky took the clothes and stepped back into the bathroom while Steve turned to go back into the kitchen and finish his pancake batter.

He placed a full mug of coffee on the counter for Bucky and had begun flipping pancakes by the time the younger man had entered the kitchen.

"Coffee!" Bucky exclaimed, and his voice sounded much more improved than it had earlier that morning.

Steve let himself smile in response, but it took all his effort to hold back a giant grin from completely overtaking his face. Bucky was dressed in Steve's clothes. Specifically, Bucky was dressed in Steve's flannel pants, that were so obviously too big for him. They had been bunched up at the feet as Bucky tried his best not to step on them.

It really was the cutest thing Steve had ever seen. It was almost impossible how Bucky had looked so enticing in nothing but a towel, but now he looked small and adorable in Steve's clothing, and Steve had to fight a surprising urge to pull the kid into his arms, and tuck that beautiful head of brown hair under his chin.

Steve continued to flip pancakes rather than do that, but it was an incredible thought.

He watched as Bucky idly wandered around the kitchen for a moment before approaching the large floor to ceiling windows that covered the back wall of the room, and led out to the balcony.

He seemed focused on the New York skyline before he turned back to Steve. "We're no where near NYU are we?"

Steve looked up after setting a plate full of pancakes at the edge of the counter with a tilt of his head, indicating that Bucky should take a seat on the stool there. Well, that answered one question. He supposed he should’ve asked Bucky last night, but he could easily admit he’d been much too distracted by the kid’s presence to even do so. Steve was not at all surprised to assume that Bucky was a student. Obviously the kid was young enough for that. 

Steve reminded himself that Bucky was 21 and a college student. Shit. That was obviously way too young for Steve.

"No, we're not," He shrugged because he hadn’t realized that Bucky wouldn’t have been able to recall the drive over here. "Don't worry though, I can drive you to your place after breakfast."

It was the least he could do, offering the kid a ride home. Bucky had spent his morning sick on Steve’s bathroom floor. He was not putting Bucky on the subway wearing what were essentially pajamas.

"Breakfast?" Bucky questioned, surprise fully evident in his voice. If he didn’t expect Steve to feed him, then Bucky was going to be very wrong about that.

"Yeah," Steve agreed and turned to pull a bottle of Gatorade out of the fridge as soon as he had the thought. After his rude awakening, Bucky surely needed all the additional electrolytes he could get, "And drink that too. I know it probably doesn't go too well with pancakes, but I don't want you to be dehydrated after this morning."

The look on Bucky’s face was still surprised, but he sat down on a stool and took a long drink from the bottle before he dug into the pancakes with a vigor Steve’s wouldn’t have expected from someone who had just been puking a half hour ago.

“So, you go to NYU then?“ Steve plated his own food, while he waited for Bucky to answer.

Bucky nodded, and started to respond before he’d completely swallowed his food. It should have been disgusting, but Steve found himself more amused than anything else.

“Yeah,” another bite of pancakes, “I’m an engineering major, tryin’ to study robotics. ‘S what I want to work with one day.”

Steve arched an eyebrow, obviously impressed. It’s not that Steve hadn’t thought Bucky was intelligent, Steve personally had always been attracted to intelligence, it’s just that their conversation last night hadn’t been much besides blatant flirting. It was nice to hear something real about Bucky’s life.

“You live on campus then?” He continued the conversation, making the assumption.

“Uh, no. Got an apartment just off campus, ‘bout 15 minutes away.” Bucky took another drink of Gatorade, and Steve found himself equally as smitten by tired, hung over, conversationalist Bucky as he did by sexy, pouty Bucky. “I get to live with my boys though, so it’s pretty great.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve smiled in response to the easy grin he saw on Bucky’s face. Sam was Steve’s roommate for all four years of college; he knew how much fun it was to live with your friends.

“Yup,” Bucky popped the ‘p’ of the word as he finally swallowed all the food in his mouth. “There’s Clint an’ Pete an’ Nat. Nat doesn’t actually live there but she’s Clint’s girlfriend and practically one of us.”

Steve finally began to eat his own breakfast as he continued to talk with Bucky. He asked more in depth questions about Bucky’s major and what he was currently studying and what classes he was taking. It was nice and Steve very much enjoyed getting to learn more about Bucky than just what was in his tight pants.

After they had finished breakfast, Steve retrieved Bucky’s clothes, but Bucky asked if he could return home in the borrowed set, to avoid embarrassment and Steve easily agreed.

Steve led Bucky down to his underground parking garage and they made easy, light, and sometimes teasing conversation as Steve followed Bucky’s directions. He’d even passed the kid his sunglasses because Bucky was still fighting a headache and it was so incredibly endearing to see Bucky wearing yet another thing of his, besides just his shirt and pants.

He parked in the lot Bucky had indicated, next to an apartment complex.

Steve smiled, because despite the fact that he and Bucky did little more than flirt last night and eat breakfast together this morning; Steve had had a really great time. For once, he found himself enjoying the moment, staying present, and just making the most of his company. For a few hours, he got a break from focusing on Shield and work, and just got to be amused by Bucky and enjoy the conversation that they had shared.

With a grin on his face, all he wanted to do was thank Bucky for the wonderful evening and morning that they had shared. "Well, Bucky, it's been -"

"Just, come in for one sec, yeah?" Bucky interrupted him with a tentative smile and Steve’s eyebrow lifted in response. "If I plug in my phone, I can get your number so that I can return your clothes."

Well, Steve wasn’t going to say no to that. If there was a chance he could get Bucky’s number and that the two could see each other again? Then he was all for it.

Steve followed Bucky into Bucky’s small apartment after commenting on how unsafe if was to leave a key under the welcome mat.

The place was small but comfortable, and Bucky made light conversation the whole time. By the time he’d followed Bucky into the bedroom and learned that not only did Bucky sleep on the bottom half of a literal bunk bed, but that he also had Spider-man sheets.

The fact that Bucky was young enough to still be interested in comic book superheroes was incredibly endearing and Steve made a herculean effort not to laugh at the embarrassing bedclothes. He succeeded, but was unable to stop the amusement from flooding his voice and Bucky grumbled at him accordingly (which was also as adorable as an adult man with comic book themed bed sheets).

"It takes a few minutes for my phone to come back on after the battery is totally dead." Bucky explained as he sighed when the two made their way back into Bucky’s tiny kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

Steve leaned against the counter, resting his weight on it, and looked at Bucky. The kid really was sweet, offering him a drink, and Steve watched as Bucky slowly pulled his fridge door open. 

"We have water and…" Bucky finished opening the door and Steve could easily see inside what was clearly a near-empty refrigerator. "Cheap beer and yellow mustard."

Steve’s eyebrow lifted and he felt deep unease in his gut. What was Bucky going to eat? He schooled his expression into something polite without worry and answered nicely. "Water is fine." 

"You need groceries," He found himself saying with a frown. The poor kid. He’d attacked the pancakes this morning with gusto, and now what was he going to eat for lunch? That bottle of ranch dressing and what looked like an unlabeled jar of something brown?

"It's fine." Bucky shrugged casually like he wasn’t concerned at all, because that was pretty much the usual, "I eat on campus most days." 

As Bucky filled a glass of water, Steve asked another concerning question. "And what do you do on the weekend?"

"Pizza." And Bucky looked flatly at Steve, like Steve somehow should’ve already knew that answer. Well, Bucky was a college kid so Steve could’ve figured that one out.

"Bucky," Steve took a drink from the glass Bucky kindly placed in front of him, and he deepened his frown as he thought more about the contents of Bucky’s refrigerator. "You need more in your fridge besides just mustard."

"Steve, I'd be worried if the fridge was totally empty, but we have beer.” Steve wanted to grimace at how Bucky could be placated with Coors Light. Poor Bucky, that was disgusting. “Besides, I don't have a car, and I hate taking bags of groceries on the bus."

Steve set the glass down and looked over at Bucky. If having a vehicle was the only issue, Steve could easily solve that problem. Maybe it was unorthodox, and maybe it was unexpected, but Steve had no reason not to ask. "You need a ride to the store?"

Bucky leaned back against the counter, and now that Steve could see his expression, he watched as Bucky directed an eye roll his way. "I can get Peter to take me later. Don't worry about it."

Steve looked down at the counter as he felt himself temporarily overcome with emotion. Bucky had given him one of the best night’s he had in a long time, and now Steve had been looking at his empty fridge, and Bucky was just shrugging it off like it was nothing.

He felt his cheeks warm deeply as he mumbled honestly in response, "I can't help but worry about it."

Steve reminded himself for a second time, that he could be the one to easily solve this problem.

He looked up and gave Bucky a tiny, hopeful smile, "I could give you a ride? I'm not doing anything right now.”

He watched Bucky’s face intensely, Bucky looked confused and concerned, and Steve could only imagine what he was thinking.

"Steve," Bucky began slowly and Steve's tiny smile disappeared in response to the hesitant tone.

"Bucky," Steve stepped away from the counter and walked around it until he was in Bucky's space. Whatever hesitation was there, Steve was going to eliminate it. The overwhelming urge to take care of Bucky was too strong to ignore, and he gave Bucky a small, encouraging smile. Bucky looked up at Steve, and he moved his pair of sunglasses from the top of Bucky’s head down onto his cute little nose. They looked better on Bucky than they did on Steve anyway.

"C'mon,” he persuaded kindly, “let me get you groceries."

When Bucky didn’t disagree, Steve turned to the door to head back to his car.

He stopped and turned around when Bucky surprised him with a shout, "Wait!"

"Let me put on underwear first!" Bucky was suddenly grinning wildly and he scrambling around Steve's body to shuffle back toward the bedroom, "I can't wear your pajamas out in public, Stevie!"

Steve didn’t respond to the nickname, the same one that Bucky had used once on the car ride over here, but his smile revealed how much he’d liked it.

Steve smiled at him as Bucky walked back into the kitchen with a sloppy bun on the top of his head and wearing dark jeans and a wrinkled and worn Spider-Man tshirt. 

Steve sent Bucky a teasing grin and playfully questioned him while Bucky pulled on a pair of shoes. "You put underwear on?" 

Bucky stood up straight and full on smirked at Steve before completely catching him off guard with a teasing "Nope." Bucky’s smirk got even more teasing as he popped the 'p' of the word loudly. Steve gaze drifted down to Bucky’s lips on their own accord.

"W-What?" Steve stuttered out the words as he felt his cheeks immediately flush in response to Bucky’s unexpected answer. He was instantly reminded of what he did in the shower last night and how Bucky had looked naked in his kitchen.

Bucky placed both hands at the fly of his jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped them. Steve's eyes locked intently onto Bucky’s hands as he temptingly folded the waist of his jeans down, showing Steve the dark patch of hair directly above Bucky’s pretty cock. 

"I said nope." Bucky’s voice sounded confident and Steve was unable to look away from the bare skin that had been revealed. Bucky’s apartment suddenly felt too small and too warm. Steve felt the same heady rush he’d experienced last night at the club, and Bucky was just grinning at him like he knew Steve was currently picturing him naked.

Bucky’s satisfied grin settled on his face while He zipped and buttoned his pants. The kid walked past Steve, lighting up his whole body as he dragged his hand down the bare skin of Steve’s arm. His heartbeat kicked up a notch and Steve had the overwhelming urge to get his own hands all over Bucky’s skin.

Bucky stepped out of the apartment, his hips swaying temptingly as Steve thought about stripping Bucky’s pants off and wrapping his hand around them. He exhaled through clenched teeth as he took a moment to try and calm his body’s instant reaction to Bucky’s sexiness. He couldn’t look away.

"I know you're looking at my ass right now."

"Damn it, Bucky," he groaned in response, because he couldn’t deny it. It was certainly true. He couldn’t stop looking at that sweet ass, picturing Bucky wiggling at him last night.

"Just for that, you're buying me beer too," Bucky tossed out, and Steve wasn’t going to argue. He figured he’d deserved it. It was the least he could do for objectifying Bucky. And besides, Bucky needed better beer in his fridge regardless.

By the time Bucky had settled into the passenger seat of Steve’s car, he used his phone to find a close grocery store. Luckily, it didn’t take very long and they quickly parked at the grocery and Steve followed Bucky inside, quietly amused by the spring in Bucky’s step.

Steve was a weak man. He wasn’t so proud that he couldn’t admit it, and as he followed Bucky into the grocery store, and Bucky pulled out a cart, leaning forward against it? Steve’s eyes firmly focused on Bucky’s ass, all he could think about was the fact that beneath those tight jeans - were all his jeans this tight? - was only smooth skin.

Steve could only assume the reason why Bucky had told him that he wasn't wearing underwear was to distract him, and, like hell, it was working. Maybe it was because Steve practically admitted to staring at Bucky’s ass last night. Sure, Steve could’ve blamed it on the fact that Bucky had stripped naked in front of him, but Steve did nothing to look away. He practically delighted in what Bucky had to offer.

If Bucky hadn’t been quite so inebriated, Steve wouldn’t have hesitated. He would’ve grabbed Bucky’s hand, dragged him down the hallway, and pushed him down onto the bed. After seeing Bucky naked, Steve would’ve loved to press their naked chests together and feel the heat from Bucky’s smaller body.

Despite how sexy those thoughts were, Steve was now at the grocery store of all places. Part of him wondered how he got here, but he honestly wasn’t surprised. What was he supposed to do? Leave the kid to a meal of yellow mustard and whatever was in that jar in the back of the fridge? It was suspiciously brown and looked fairly untrustworthy. Steve was not leaving Bucky alone with that.

Sam wouldn’t be surprised. Steve always loved to take care of other people, to the point where Sam routinely teased him for it. Well, Steve signed Sam’s paychecks so the joke was on him.

Regardless, Steve could feel the overwhelming need to do something to take care of Bucky. Sure he cooked the kid breakfast and washed his clothes from last night, but after seeing that empty fridge? For fuck’s sake, the bottom shelf was full of Coors Light. Did people actually still drink that? It was disgusting. If Steve was buying Bucky beer then he was at least getting something marginally tolerable. Anyone deserved that much.

“C’mon, Steve!” Bucky practically exclaimed as he pushed the cart forward and Steve smiled in response. Steve stepped up next to him and placed a hand on the cart handle as well, forcing Bucky to head to the right, rather than the junk food aisle to his left.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he gazed, in a way that Steve could only describe as longingly, down the aisle of junk food.

Steve shook his head with a smile and more firmly steered the cart to the left.

“You’ll get scurvy, eat an orange.” He admonished when Bucky scowled at him in response, “Produce, Buck, it’s good for you.” He made a mental note to actually grab some oranges for Bucky, seeing as it seemed like the kid’s apartment was desperately lacking in produce.

Well, desperately lacking in most food, but fresh fruits and vegetables were always a priority.

Logically, Steve knew it was ridiculous to be this taken with someone after one day; not even a full day really. It had been less than 24 hours, and last night hadn’t exactly been full of deep meaningful conversation.

Still though, Steve was charmed by Bucky. He could admit that as easily as he could admit how much he liked thinking about wrapping his hands around Bucky’s slender hips. 

Steve doubted he was that free and playful at 21 as Bucky currently was, but he enjoyed seeing it. Bucky was grinning wide, dropping his pout after he lifted a bag full of apples to put in the cart. When was the last time Steve had been so happy and breezy while grocery shopping?

Honestly, it was just refreshing to see. 

He wasn’t going to get ahead of himself and assume that Bucky would want to see him again, but similar to how he felt at Hydra last night, he was going to enjoy this for what it was. Steve was generally enjoying himself, walking down the produce aisle of the grocery store with a gorgeous man keeping him company.

If this was all it was, which could very well be a possibility since he and Bucky had so obviously only met for one thing last night, he would appreciate it for what it was. Steve was getting the privilege of making this kid smile, and in turn, Steve got to be on the receiving end of that smile. He didn’t mind paying for Bucky’s groceries when he had plenty of money, but it was so mutually beneficial that it was more than worth it to him.

He nearly shook his head at himself, even partially in surprised, when he realized that he hadn’t even checked his work email since Bucky woke up. 

It was nearly noon on a Saturday, he hadn’t checked his email, and he was feeling tremendously relaxed.

This was not a normal part of Steve’s routine, and he was going to enjoy it while he had the chance. He was self aware enough to know that he spent too many hours feeling stressed and not letting himself relax. Granted, he didn’t do anything about it, but he was aware of it, and feeling relaxed right now? 

Well, it meant something to Steve and he found himself endlessly thankful that Bucky went home with him last night. 

Maybe things hadn’t gone the way he had anticipated, but Steve was starting to think that maybe they went better. Well, for him anyway, Bucky seemed pretty miserable this morning and the fact that he was still wearing Steve’s sunglasses inside the store made Steve believe that Bucky’s hangover had yet to fade.

The fact that Steve thought Bucky wearing his sunglasses was cute was another giveaway. In general, Steve found it rude for people to leave sunglasses on indoors, he felt the same way about hats, but here was Bucky, looking as adorable and hungover as ever.

As Bucky grabbed the sleeve of Steve’s tshirt in between two delicate fingers and literally pulled him down the snack aisle, Steve couldn’t stop laughing.

“Cheese puffs, Steve! Cheese puffs! Stevie, Pleassseeeeeee!” Bucky’s voice was playful and teasing and Steve may have been just a little bit in love with the tone.

He was still laughing as he took the clearly artificially neon orange bag out of Bucky’s hands and dropped it into the cart.

The smile that Bucky gave him in return nearly made him forget how to breathe.

On a random Saturday, during the middle of the day, Steve Rogers found himself buying a bag of disgusting looking cheese puffs for a man he barely knew, and maybe he found the world tilting around him.

Because buying a $3.49 bag of snacks caused Steve to blindsided by a rush of emotion so thick, that he needed to physically catch his breath.

He looked at Bucky’s smile, so wide and pretty across the kid’s face, and Steve registered that he was happy; not just happier than he’d been in a long time, but really relaxed and happy, and not as free as Bucky, but freer than he’d ever been before.

The happiness and warmth in his chest was so new and lovely that Steve was going to wrap his hands around it and never let go.

In the meantime, he met Bucky’s smile with a large one of his own and placed another bag into the cart.

Steve may not have known Bucky very well, but at this point, for the warmth that Bucky gave him?

Well, Steve was sure the kid deserved everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this fic, consider reading Sugar Sweet, the flagship story of this series that tells Bucky's side of the story & explores his relationship with Steve.

**Author's Note:**

> You can [ find me on tumblr](http://colorcoated01.tumblr.com/), even though I don't really understand tumblr. Come talk Stucky Trash with me. 
> 
> Comments = Love


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